


Marked

by HunniLibra



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:04:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunniLibra/pseuds/HunniLibra
Summary: Danarius comes to Kirkwall for his runaway slave. But finds him protected by the renowned Vivicca Hawke. He wants, needs his servant back...but why not kill two birds with one stone? Remove one threat to get back the other? Perhaps he needs another, stronger marked slave for his pleasure, till his little wolf comes back.





	1. Couldn't Tell

**Author's Note:**

> A little head cannon I've had for awhile and decided idk why not share. Comments are more then welcome! I'm always trying to improve my writing skills!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10\. 28. 2018- Hello! As you can see I'm not dead (yay). I've been away with work and just life but I really want to get back into writing this. So I decided to go though my original chapters and edit, not only to refresh myself with what I wrote but also bc I feel like I have more to add before I can do this idea justice. Please bear with me as I re-upload my chapters!  
> Again thanks for checking this fic out!

Fenris sat in silence slouched over himself staring through the curtains of his hair into the dying embers of his bedroom hearth. It was funny, in an ironic sense, how unaccustomed to the silence he had become. His room was cold again, empty like when he first arrived. This was fine, this was normal. He deserved this, self-imposed or not this mental prison was merited. He had run like a coward, lashing out like the feral dog some accused him to be. His weakness wounding the  _ one _ human who had ever given a damn about him. 

The elf rose gritting his teeth against the burning of his muscles protesting from disuse. The tingling of sleep spread across his legs as he hobbled to his bed collapsing on it the moment his knees hit the edge. The bed meets him cushioning his fall with soft crumpled sheets. The expensive linens still smelled of her. A painful reminder of better times. He nosed the finely woven sheets against his better judgment. He would indulge just for a moment, hopeful for a distraction to pull him out of this downward spiral.  

Perhaps Varric barging in to discuss something trivial for his latest book, or Avaline’s constant badgering about the state of his residence. Brow draw as she pestered him about the trouble and strings she had to pull to keep her patrols from requesting a warrant to search the mansion on suspicion of squatters. They weren’t wrong though, but he doubted Avaline would ever sign a warrant. He wasn’t known for his hospitality. Voids even Merrill would have been welcomed, stale muffins and all. Her cheery blathering and surprisingly deep insight a nice change. Something to cut off the encroaching thoughts buzzing in his head. 

But no distraction came to him, the unmistakable scent of spiced honey and cinnamon wafting over his limp form embedding itself deep, stroking at the thoughts he had been trying to lock away. They had found his secret shame too easily. 

It was disrespectful to have these thoughts like he was still using her for his own selfish comfort. 

His body betrayed him reaching blindly for the offending object taunting him from across the mattress. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, he had always been weak. The quills poked him through the fine material of the pillow to stab at his chest and arms. He held it close regardless burying his nose into the cold fabric. If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend…

She laid with him there, full lips pulled wide into a warm inviting gapped tooth smile. Dark chestnut curls shifting to tickle at his face, each strand littering him with a thousand tiny caresses as he pushed them away to kiss her. His battle callous fingers tracing at her high cheekbones when he finally pulled away. He could see his own awestruck expression in the depths of her eyes. She held the night sky trapped behind them, freckles smattering her face like stars outside.

Fenris stroked the pillow seeing her bathed in the orange glow of his lantern. Dark skin wrapped in the flickering light. It skirted around her, hugging her plush form making him pull closer in a vain attempt to try and steal some of her light, of her warmth. To tuck some away for when he knew he had to let her go. 

Even then he knew. Even before he made the foolish mistake to take what should have never been offered. He felt the itch, the weighted stone of denial and fear on his chest. He pushed it back, buried deep along with all the other skeletons he carried. The tighter he held on the heavier that weight felt. The tether would snap soon, the rope was faulty. Frayed at the edges, years of innocent blood corroding the fiber. But he wanted it so bad. Was it so wrong to feel wanted for more than the flesh on his back? Her companionship had been humbling. She gave him something he couldn’t ever remember having. To feel so loved-

Fenris choked flinging his creature comforts away before the aching in his chest engulf him. He did not deserve… Fenris rose leaning against the wall, the cold stone unforgiving against his bare skin. Pulling his knees to his chest once more he waited for his exhaustion to take him to the darkest crevices of his mind. Where even her afterimage couldn’t find him. It took him slowly, cold and punishing, retching his thoughts from him. He should be thankful for the oblivion it carried. Gone were the lingering memories of her ever loving him.

******

“Merrill please,” Hawke sighed swaying on her feet slightly as her small friend pushed a small basket of homemade bread into her arms. “I know these streets. I know the residents too. I’m  _ fine. _ ” 

Merrill tittered nervously unconvinced by the strong front the other mage put on. Green eyes looked behind the taller woman sweeping the poorly lit alienage. “I know-I know. That’s what makes it dangerous. I could always walk with you…” Hawke smiled, the emotion not reaching her eyes and cut the elf with a quick wave of her hand. 

“Then you would be walking the streets alone. I won’t have that.” Hawke squeezed at Merrill’s slim shoulder.

“I’m nobody. No one even looks my way anymore.” 

“True.” Hawke snorts stepping back. “Varric must be bankrupt by now.” 

“Vivicca-” Merrill started voice as stern as she could stand to make it feeling helpless as Hawke turns on unsteady feet stumbling down the few stairs to the dirt road of the street.  

“Goodnight Merrill,” Hawke called back too stuck in her own head to listen to her friend's worries. “I’ll be back tomorrow for cards with you and Bella ya?” She threw her hand up in her familiar two-finger salute over her head walking into the dimly lit streets. 

“Goodnight…” Merrill waves calling after her friend’s retreating back, the darkness of the ally engulfing her figure. Merrill watched the shadows till the changing winds forced her back in bolting the door behind her. Despite Hawke’s assurance she couldn’t shake the feeling of trepidation looming over her. 

While not always the most observant in the party even she could see how the past months have worn her friend down. The exuberance and quick wit that Vivicca normally wore with such pride was gone now, her blunt but eloquent people skills were now dull and brittle. The sharpness of her opinions now no longer buffeted with diplomacy. Her heart was still there, still bleeding for this city, but her spirit was gone.

Merrill sighed rubbing at her eyes in worry. She had failed. One task and she couldn’t even do that right. She had wanted one thing for her closest friend, rest. One day without a care, no paperwork, no nobles, or commoners. No worries of the court of mages and templars, just one moment to see Hawke smile again. To see that the city, that her friends, could manage. But trying to slow Hawke down was like like trying to quell a storm. 

The plan had been simple, an outing disguised as errands. In an attempt to get Hawke out of the inner city to rest.  An invite out to clear a small- and fictional- bandit establishment with her, a good work out then perhaps a walk. 

Ever the strategist the idea of just the two of them clearing out a small group raised a brow. Months ago Hawke would have argued against something so risky. But today, today she shrugged grabbing her coat and following silently behind. Perhaps she knew it was a ruse, a little white lie to nudge her forward.

To Merrill’s surprise her little lie turned into a big, and bloody reality. Once the sand had been liberally coated with blood and bodies for the birds to clean they traveled further spending the early morning and afternoon on a safer part of the beach. Merrill claiming she wanted to wash off in the calmer water. Instead she took the time to look for sea glass and shells filling the silence with stories and leading questions peeking over her shoulder every once and a while to watch Hawke. She stood knee deep in the foam throwing stones into the currents nodding or humming noncommittally gaze miles away from the conversation. When the weather picked up bringing with it a bitter wind Merrill gave up dragging Hawke to the Hanged Man in hopes Varric would be able to help. 

Merrill sighed rubbing at the prickling feeling in her chest reaching for the large conch Hawke had extracted from the waves for her. The pub did nothing to brighten her spirits, at least not until the drinks came. Merrill had watched with growing concern as Hawke looked like she was trying to drown herself in ale, oblivious to the exchanged glances between the dwarf and herself all the while.

_ Don’t worry about it sunshine. Sometimes peace can be found at the bottom of a bottle.  _

She couldn’t help but worry. Not just for Hawke but for the vibe around them. New faces were common in the Hanged Man, being the only pub in the large port city where you could trust the ale was at least cut with  _ clean _ water. Merchants, sailors, and tradesmen alike flocked here before moving on. But tonight was different, the pub was too crowded. The new patrons flooding the small common area were rowdier than usual, overcrowding the space. Hawke seemed to be in the epicenter of it all. 

Spilled drinks, bad foul mouthed flirting and inappropriate touching were all directed to the immobile champion tonight. Not unusual for natives to get handsy, it was almost a game at this point for the townsfolk. Before the shift in Hawke’s demeanor she would have encouraged it, roughhousing with the locals, giving as good as she got. Now she didn’t even blink, she didn’t even notice the  _ who _ was approaching her. 

It had always been the locals, always a familiar face. Tourist and newcomers had always just enjoyed the show, too timid to approach a walking legend. Merrill’s mind was a blur with the number of unfamiliar faces that had swum in front of their small corner table, predatory gazes locked on the silent woman. Their forcefulness had made the elf’s skin crawl, it didn’t seem like innocent flirting. It looked like work. She felt dirty just watching them try to sweet talk Hawke out for a quick rut outside or a cheap room. It became too much for her fearing they would take her lack of response as something else and had begged Hawke to walk her home. 

“I’m just overthinking things again,” The mage declared loudly looking at herself in her cracked eluvian cradling the shell to her chest. “She knows what she is doing.” Raising her voice as if to drown out the nagging in her ears. With a determined huff Merrill put the smooth pink shell on her bedside and dowsed the candles. Tomorrow would come and wash away all her worries. Sending a small prayer that her fears were unfounded to the gods she headed to bed. 


	2. blackout.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has violence and references to past abuse.

The walk back to her estate was particularly quiet. Cold air blowing in from the north chasing away the merchants and usual miscreants that loitered along the streets at night. It was that time of year again. Hawke smiled tiredly up the abandoned streets. It’s storefronts locked tight, any goods squirreled away till morning. When she had first stepped foot in Kirkwall the city had been its liveliest at night. The streets a den of activity; murderers, thieves, literal demons cloaked in chains. At night the true colors of the city came out. A macabre canvas that she sorely missed. Well, she missed the challenge mostly, the challenge of being a nobody, of being just another dirty Ferelden refugee. When she would be more likely to join a gang then kill them. In a way she respected the raiders, gangs, and cutpurses she had fought over the years. ‘Honest Crooks’ she once called them, no ulterior motives like the chantry or the idiots of Hightown. No fancy games or dancing around the truth down here. Simple and clean, just people trying to claw their ways out.   
Was it selfish that she missed the simplicity of her lesser status? The adrenaline of roaring out her name to her enemies so they never forgot her skill, or her rage. The burn of her muscles as she fought for her life back to back with her new found friends. So much had changed, too quickly she was thrown into a life she didn’t want. Now with Avaline firmly seated as head of the guards and her newfound status as ‘Champion’ no one dared to try to reclaim her streets.   
_ Please someone take them back, it’s too much  _   
No, no this was good, this peace was what the city needed. If she had to be the one to do it then so be it, she was the only one that could. No this was good. It gave her time too, everyone said she needed to relax anyway. With no nightmares in the streets she could just breathe…   
_ Peh. _ What an awful idea, like stagnant water it just left her time to fester. Sighing into the night air she stopped resting on an unlit lamp post watching her breath mix with the dust in the air and float away.  She groaned grabbing at the splintering wood of the post, looking up was a mistake. everything tilted dangerously beneath her, her stomach clenching turning sourly. It rolled sluggishly weighted down with cheap booze and fatty meats.   
_ Carver always did say she was a lightweight _   
Vivicca grimaced choking on a dry sob. Pushing off the post she wobbled down the street cursing at the ache rising in her chest. She would have to write him soon. Idiot brother. Void, he was one of the reasons she drank. 

Letting him go in those caverns had been a last ditch effort to save him, and a selfish attempt to save herself from being the reason her mother lost another child, again. Coming back from the depths had been a waking nightmare. The blame, the screaming, the fire striking at her cheek, rings catching in her skin. It had all been weak penance for her sins. At least he was happier, away from mother, and out from ‘under her shadow’. Hawke scoffed bitterly kicking at the loose gravel under her boot. 

Men. Always running.   
Groaning in agitation she rubbed at her face with trembling hands. Could she not? Just for one fucking day. Merrill had tried so hard to take her mind off things today, to make her happy, to just forget for a few hours. She didn’t deserve friends like her. She thought she could ride this out, like she had done time and time again. But this dark cloud had been building up for years, an unwelcome weight seeping into her bones. Fuck she needed a drink.   
“Hey pretty, fancy comin’ home with me tonight?”    
Hawke turned slow to adjust to the sudden movement of a hand jerking her around. The bright light of the moon catching her off guard briefly. Pain washed across her face and over her right cheek. The unmistakable crunch of bone and cartilage grinding together before buckling under her skin. The percussive sound of the strike reverberated in her head rattling her as she stumbled to the ground. The white-hot heat of broken bone and gravel embedding in her flesh brought the grimy streets into focus, her drunken haze gone.    
Vivicca sputtered spitting blood onto the dirt below, her dazed body refused to move. Lying prone on the floor with ears ringing she watched large shadows crowd around her. Rough hands descended grabbing at her shoulders and hair yanking her up forcibly. Neck taunt Hawke starred up into the sky struggling to find purchase on the sifting dirt. Panic gripped her, her chest squeeze in terror cutting off a scream of indignation that was building in her throat. 

Liquid fire met her skin, a sharp pressure stabbed into the exposed tendons of her neck. It shot through her, coursing through her veins clearing her head better any punch. She roared adrenaline racing through her the world bursting into oversaturated colors disorientating her further.    
Heart racing she lashed out blindly feeling the reverb of her mana. It pulsed from her raw and angry unable to tether it back in. Her captures grunted loosening their grip on her as the magic ran through all of them. That split second of weakness was enough, retching her shoulder out of her last assailant’s meaty grasp she bolted. 

The streets bled with colors melting at her feet as she ran through the labyrinthine streets of the slums. Her drug addled brain took over trying to lose those following behind her. She knew these streets better than anyone. Right? 

Hawke felt the telltale thumping of footfall behind her catching up dangerously fast, the unknown hot on her trail. Fear was as great a motivator as any spurring her on. Her pumping limbs taking the extra energy to push her faster into the swirling darkness, the shadows in front more welcoming than the ones behind.   
The shouting behind her slowly faded out till only the crunch of her boots and ragged breathing could be heard around her. Vision blurring with blood, sweat, and void knows what they pumped her full of she was too blind to see the abrasive stone. Dead end. Darting around for an escape she ignored the fuzzy edges of her vision starting to appear. Damn.  

She couldn’t stop now. She saw it then, a small sliver of yellow burning between two closely built ramshackle businesses. It was a tight fit, but it was her only shot. Sucking in the best she could Hawke shimmed into the claustrophobic alley feeling her clothes and skin give under the rough texture of the walls. Dust and cobwebs assaulted her coating her nose and mouth as she struggled.    
Eyes forward she gritted through the pain feeling the walls coming closer and closer squeezing her until it was almost unbearable. She felt so small at that moment. It didn’t matter, she was so close to the strobing light. She could almost feel it.

“Playing hard to get sweets?” The ally turns dark, the once safe light growing deadly.

Trapped. Hawkes don’t get  _ trapped _ . Vivicca’s heart seized realizing the error in her plan too late. She boxed herself in worse than she already was. A beast caught squarely in the middle the nets cast all around her. She was caught in a trap of her own making, again. 

Fear made way for pride and with it rage. It boiled over her rolling off in sheets, thick and acidic on her tongue. It barrelled through whatever was holding her mana hostage, pushing out through the sludge of her souring mind to surge out in uncontrolled arches of lighting and heat. It beat against the walls like her trapped wrists wished to bouncing off in scorching waves. Brick and mortar chunks exploding outward as it’s pounding built in intensity. Untamed and volatile. She barely heard the screams of dying men as the magic burst out of the ally striking anything within its reach. 

As soon as the magic came it left leaving Hawke trembling sicker than before, but free. Wedging herself out of the ally Hawke limped past the smoldering corpse of her assaulters gagging at the nauseating smell of burnt flesh and hair. They would attract attention from the others soon.  _ Just keep moving.  _

Hawke huffed using the walls to stable herself as she lurched forward. She was tired, scared, and fading fast. She couldn’t collapse out in the open like this, these streets were no longer hers. The thought made her laugh, what cruel irony that she got her wish now. 

Finally succumbing to her wounds Hawke collapsed behind a stack of crates and barrels unable to rub the swimming of her vision away. Voids where was she? Had she gotten far from the alienage? The creates smelled of rot and salt, was this the docks? Was Anders close? 

Her shoulder and ankle throbbed at the thought, if she wasn’t quick she would have permanent damage. Her ankle was shot, she could feel it swell. The dark skin swollen and discolored under her gentle touch. These injuries use to be nothing to her, she knew enough healing magic to mend these wounds easily. But after that last outburst her mana was silent. Dead in her veins. Whatever they stabbed her with working against her. Trying once again in vain to call upon her magic she only felt a hollow emptiness in her chest. Each breath rattling against her ribs. 

“Spread out and circle round. Get the rest of the men. She should be docile.” 

Hawke held her breath clasping a hand over her mouth muffling her panicked pants. Hawke wiggled herself deeper into crevices of the crates hoping the tarps and nets hide her from their lanterns. She sat for what felt like hours straining to hear the movements around her. The moment it was quiet she would move, get to someone that could guard her while this shit wore off. 

Hawke sat for what seemed like hours, the black tint of the night deeping as stars popped hazily about in and out of her vision glowing brighter and brighter. She rolled her shoulder groaning at the pain and muteness she felt in her veins. She couldn’t lay here all night. It was now or never. Ignoring the pain Hawke crouched readying herself to make a dash for the neighboring street. Breathing deeply she lunged. 

“Going somewhere little thief?” 

Hawke stumbled the curt accent starting her better than any trap. Scrambling to right herself she spun.  _ Never give the enemy your back, face them in victory or defeat _ . He-was not what she was expecting in an assailant. Face hidden from the glow of the waning moon he leaned all too casually on the set of crates she had been under as if waiting for her to emerge. 

“Mage.” Hawke bit out suddenly feeling as helpless as a babe. 

“My how clever.” He drawled sardonically picking at his robes. “Here I thought everyone in this savage little city were buffoons. Idiots couldn’t even find  _ you.  _ He trailed off looking bored. Hawke snarled forgetting her earlier fear and stepped forward getting a better look at the arrogant bastard. 

“Danarius.” Hawke eyes widening in shock at the man recognizing the style of his robes the gems of his staff catching in the low light. His smirk vanished so fast it was as if it was never there. 

“Looks like I’ve caught a smart one.” His laugh mirthless, the tone dripping venom as he pushed off the rotting crates. He stalked forward confidently appraising her like an animal he was about to purchase. 

Anger overtook Vivicca, the pieces coming together all too late. She would die before letting him get anywhere near Fenris. Forgetting her injuries she lunged in the short distance between them going for his open chest forcing her silent lyrium to wake. This fight would have to be short and swift for her to have a chance. Hand shaped into an open hand strike she channeled the lightning within instinctively, all her rage and deadly intent overwhelmed her mind, the power looking for a release. 

Dirt and dust met her suddenly, her body dropping like a weighted sack. There was no release. No usual explosive high of energy channeling itself through her in the most euphoric feeling. Instead, it turned inward. Primal lust for blood rebounding on its caster to satisfy its hunger. Laying immobilized Hawke gasp choking on grit and bile shamefully losing control her jerking limbs. Trembling from the aftershocks she retched, the contents of her stomach burning her throat before pooling on the ground soaking her hair and cheek.

“Charming.” Danarius sneered stepping away from the spreading pool of sick. “You there! Pick her up- I want to see what my property sees in her.” Half conscious Hawke was hauled unceremoniously to her feet, a hand again pulling at her hair. Danarius stepped forward entering her blurry line of sight. Gripping her face harshly he turned it from side to side appraising her. Hawke snarled, or tired to through the mix of blood and sick streaking down her face. “Hmm yes, a little spitfire aren’t you?” The elder mage turned dismissing her to bark orders to the blurry shadows around them.  

“I’ll never let you get to him!” Vivicca spat as the unseen hands dragged her away.

Danarius stopped turning, a brow raised in jest at her empty threat. “Get to him?” He sneered words turning venomous. “I have already ‘gotten’ to him, deeper and more completely than you ever will.” He stalked closer relishing in the fear brimming in the woman’s dark eyes. He moves till he is a hair's breadth from her, lips almost touching her ear. “I am the constant mark he will  _ never _ forget, burned so deep under his flesh that he will never be able to extract me.” 

He pulled away teething flashing in the moonlight. “Yet, you seem to be under the impression that I cannot reclaim my lost property at any time- that he is  _ safe  _ from me?” His hand trailed down along her hairline grabbing at a curl thoughtfully running it through his fingers as if appraising it. “To be honest with you my dear,” He smiled thoughtfully looking up from the dark locks. “I had come back to merely negotiate a deal with you. Buy him back.” His smile turned cool dropping the strands to trace a finger across her damaged cheekbone. “But imagine my surprise when I arrived to hear that my little runaway is held up with some Ferelden whore, a mage no less. To be found in such compromising positions. I was intrigued, this little trist, his little fling. I had to know all about  _ you _ .” Hawke swallowed around the lump forming in her throat seeing the dangerous mix of infatuation and zeal mixing in his cold gaze. With no energy left Hawke slumped succumbing to the evenings' abuse. She could do nothing as she felt a heavy stone collar lock shut around her neck. Hawke whined in horror as whatever he wrote on the stone stole what little lyrium she had left from her. Danarius marveled inwardly at the runes glowing blue around her neck with her remaining stores of lyrium amazed that one mage harbored so much. Oh, she would be a success like none before.

“At first,” He continued. “I was less than impressed with what I saw, such a sad excuse for a bed toy. But then-” He paused mapping the curve of Hawke’s trembling cupid bow, fingers pressing into the plush flesh of her upper lip taking pleasure in the way she struggled to stay focus and fight him. Eyes rolling as she fought to stay conscious  “But then a little birdy told me the most wonderful things. The Arishok was weak yes, but still to fight one one on one? And survive?” Danarius took in her soft but athletic build now understanding his spies many reports. She would be a lovely specimen. “To fight like you do could kill a lesser mage, so much wear and tear on the body. To channel so much raw power with no staff? How do you do it little pigeon?” 

“F-fuck you.” 

He struck like a viper, all mirth and levity gone from his face. Thumbs pressing down above the loose collar digging into her exposed windpipe. “I will not allow back talk from vermin!” Hawke gurgled around his fists unable to throw him off. He lets go moments before choking her unconsciousness. Sweet salty air filled her lungs burning her chest as she gasped shakily. “But you’re in luck. I will make you greater than all my projects before.” 

“No!” Hawke wheezed wiggling in his iron grip. 

“ _ You took my slave!”  _ He roared spittle flying from his lips. “Ruined him with this false notion of freedom! Making him believe he could ever challenge me!” His hands returned to her neck pressing down again with no signs of stopping. “I demand  _ compensation! _ ” 

Spots bloomed in Hawke’s vision unable to break her gaze with his. She watched from the sidelines almost as her vision blurred dangerously, the world narrowing and turning black around the edges.

“Don’t worry little bird,” Danarius cooed in her ear, voice fading as she slipped under. “I’ll make sure you see your little elf again. After all, who wants an incomplete set?”    



	3. Empty Gold

Leandra’s mornings were normally a quiet affair. Raising with the sun she enjoyed mingling around that odd assortment of servants her daughter had haired over the years. Different colored uniforms bustling around her chipping hurried good mornings and smiles. The morning always carried so much energy with them around, almost enough to make her feel young again.

She walked down the corridor nodding and smiling at the various servants milling about stopping their work to bow and step out of her path respectfully. At the end of the hallway stood one of Hawke’s first hires. Leandra stopped smiling down softly at the small elven girl. The girl returns it bowing low.

“Good morning Messere. I have your meal ready for you in the gardens.”

“Thank you my dear; is Vivicca moving yet?” Leandra asked heading to the garden veranda Orana in tow.

“No Ma’am, Bodahn said he would wake her half past the ninth bell.” Orana moved ahead opening the garden doors for the elderly woman already moving into her morning routine. Leandra hummed watching the girl silently finish setting up the table before her.

The autumn air was ripe with the smell of coming rain and Hightown waking around her. She settled into her favorite chair breathing deeply savoring the morning. She could almost taste the city around her; savory hints of smoking meats and freshly made bread. From above the breeze carried the smell of the chantry down the city steps. The subtle scent of sandalwood and eldermoss calling the faithful to morning prayers.

Leandra chuckled to herself settling in for her meal reaching for the sliced meats. “Such a lazy child- never find a proper marriage at this rate.” Orana smiled back from where she stood meticulously looking over her work while Leandra ate. Her mistress was quite particular about her breakfasts.

Two cups sat to her lady’s left, one steaming with a dark earthy roast and the other a light yellow tea. Her favorite cutlery gleamed to the side of the cups. The silver polished to perfection and wrapped artfully in a silk cloth napkin. Thin fingers divided up the ornate plates the elf had arranged earlier that morning.

“Do-Do you have any plans today Messere?” Orana stammered cutting the silence of the moment.

“Pardon?” Leandra paused toast midway to her mouth.

Orana blanched startlingly even herself with her sudden question. Had she not known better she would have thought she had spoken out of turn. But Hawke wasn’t like her old Master. Hawke was family and friend- she refused to be considered anything else. This mansion was as much hers as the actual owners. If anyone had a problem with it they could speak to her directly. Hawke had given her a second chance. Her father would have been delighted.

“I-was wondering if you had any plans for today?”

Leandra smiled up warmly patting at the bench next to her. “It’s fine dear. I was just surprised. Always so quiet…” Orana sat quickly heart pounding stunned that she was allowed to have a conversation with someone of her lady’s stature. “Today I have quite a busy schedule. The new fall fabrics are in, perhaps I can finally commission a dress for Vivicca would actually wear.” She continued dabbing at the corners of her mouth before taking a sip of tea. “After that I have a lunch date with Lady Bonamen, and lastly!” Leandra winked over the rim of her cup. “This evening a meeting with the matchmaker.”

“Matchmaker?”

Leandra nodded finishing her tea and reaching for a scone. “Of course! Hawke isn’t getting any younger, and I would so love to see some grandchildren in my lifetime. I have a plethora of ladies and sirs lined up that would simply adore her- if she could hold her tongue long enough.” She clicked her tongue staring down at her cup.

Orana sat nodding in the silence looking at her toes curling in the mossy floor beneath her. Her mind swam with memories of interrupted moments between young lovers. Stolen kisses in the gardens, giggles echoing in the library. Faint blue shadows dancing down the stairs before dawn. “Beg pardon miss, but I believe Serrah Hawke is seeing someone.”

“What? Oh- the elven man?” Leandra put her cup down with a soft clink. She had, of course, heard the gossip surrounding her daughter and her scowling friend. Orana nodded refilling her mistress’s teacup. “Well- I don’t think it would be appropriate for a woman of her statue to be in that kind of relationship.”

“That kind?”

“A-” Leandra gestured vaguely digging herself into an embarrassing hole. “You know…”

The elf stared back blankly unsure of how far she could push her privileges. “Hawke cares for him…”

They sat in an uncomfortable silence listening to the streets around them. Leandra found that she couldn’t quite make eye contact with the girl anymore. What she said was no doubt hurtful.

“She deserves a better life then I did. I was too willing to become a social pariah. I don’t want that for my children.” Even if it already started. Leandra looked remorsefully at her half-eaten breakfast finding it no longer appealing, failure lay heavily on her heart and stomach. One child left along the roadside in a dingy unmarked grave never to reach her full potential. Another now waiting for the day he falls under a monsters sword, blinded by some false illusion of grandeur. What would Malcolm have thought if he could see her now?

_Oh, Malcolm how I’ve failed you._

Leandra had loved her husband, still did with all her being. She had disobeyed everyone to run off with him, she didn’t even blink when her parents disowned her, her family name thrown to the wind. She had run away flushed and pleased to start a life together, to start a family together. But their story wasn’t without its shares of tragedies.

At first being in the run had been romantic. Just the two of them like all those novels she had pined over as a little girl. A rogue mage and a princess living their happily ever after. Then their eldest was born and their story hit a turn she did expect.

Vivicca was such a spirited little babe. Skin like hers, so dark and warm. A mass of curls that reminded her of calla lilies that seemed to defy gravity when Vivicca would squirm in her father’s arms. Pudgy fingers wrapped in a death grip in his beard with a giggle that could even charm the Maker himself. Even as a babe her onyx eyes were piercing, so perceptive and pure in expression.

“What a blessing.” Malcolm use to say over her crib every night.

They had hid themselves for Vivicca’s younger years; right on the outskirts of the Ferelden border. It had taken some time but Leandra had adapted to this new life learning to live off the forest and travelers. But her rose-colored glasses had been smudged by fear.

Then on her daughter’s sixth birthday, their worst nightmare was realized.

_“Look mama! I made you a present!”_

Leandra remembered the icy feel of terror looking down at tender innocents, such trusting eyes dark and sparkling; waiting- wanting praise. A small glass bauble held tightly in her small chubby hands. It glittered and pulse as if it had a heartbeat, the lights inside twinkled like captured stars from inside the fragile spun glass. The rays washed over the small cabin its colors reminiscent of stained glass.

_“That’s- why how lovely… where did you find it?”_ _Leandra looked down clutching at her skirts._ A warm _presents appeared at her side, a reassuring hand resting on her back. Her husband's breath on her neck._

_“No silly! I made it!” Vivicca giggled bouncing back on her heels in giddy excitement._

_“How princess?” Malcolm took over kneeling to accept small gift smiling wildly as she deposited the warm glass into his outstretched hand._

_“I say some pretty rocks by the lake and it told me to make it pretty.”_

_Leandra couldn’t breathe, every warning her mother had given her running through her head. She turned her back on her family and now she had damned her new one._

_Malcolm faltered eyes darting back to his wife. “Who told you?”_

_Vivicca wasn’t smiling anymore, the tension of the moment was seeping into her. “The water and rocks wanted to be friends so I made them close. It made them happy.” She was fussing now with her hair pulling it roughly in frustration. “You don’t like it?” Her voice wobbled she couldn’t understand why her parents looked so upset._

_Malcolm broke the silence inhaling sharply and scooped up his little girl hugging her close. “Come pumpkin- I have much I have to teach you.”_

Leandra turned blinking back tears eyes misting over at her memories. Memories of past failures and regrets. She had made those errors but she refused to let her remaining children make them too. A good marriage, a proper marriage could change everything. No more running, no more templar lurking in the shadows, no more of her lineage would have to hide behind titles and gold. With the right matches and influence, she could even breed out the magic…

Leandra reached out clutching at Orana’s thin thigh squeezing it tightly. “I want my family to live on- in peace. No more of this madness. The blight is gone and we can rebuild.”

Orana looked down at the jeweled hand furrowing her brow in thought. “Perhaps. But perhaps letting Serrah chose would be a wiser choice for her future? For your family's future? I quite like my new found freedoms, being able to choose how to dress. What and when to eat, who I can call friend and ally. I would expect the idea of love and marriage would very much be the same.” Orana looked up and smiled meekly. “And if I may be frank, knowing Vivicca I doubt she would stand for this. She is rather- strong willed.”

Leandra sat back aghast as if she had been physically struck. Taking away her daughters freedoms? Never! This would open up so many doors for her, for them. This would be everything they needed to move on. Leandra rose to her feet mouth open to rebut the young elf.

“Beg pardon Messere,” A polite cough interrupted them from the door cutting her off before she could start. “Is the young mistress with you?”

“No,” The elder turned to frown in confusion. “ Is she not in from last eve?”

Bodahn shook his head approaching to collect the dishes professionally oblivious to the tension he had stepped into. “I don’t recall seeing her last night, and her bed sheets are cold.”

“Is Xavier here?”

As if called by magic the dog in question appeared bounding up from the corner of the gardens. He stopped at the old human's heels head cocked intelligently. Leandra’s heart sank a nagging sense of worrying growing as the mambari wagged his stump of a tail. Viv wouldn’t leave for days without him.

“Now don’t you go worrying Ma’am, I’m sure the young misses is just sleeping off a particularly hard night of drinks with Merrill or Varric.” The dwarf pipped up noticing his lady’s sudden look of trepidation. Leandra nodded deaf to his words already walking down the halls to the entry foyer.

“Perhaps-perhaps. But she usually does that here. Someone always brings her home if she is that incapacitated.”

“If you like miss I can run by and check.”

Leandra turned pressing her lips into a thin line. “Could you?”

“Of course Ma’am,” Bodahn bowed low. “Could you tell my boy I ran out for a moment?”

The two women watched the dwarf scurry out the door throwing on his raincoat as he went. Leandra clutched at her dresses neckline trying to temper the fear rising in her gut. Why was she so worried? Motherly intuition? She tried to breathe through the growing knot in her chest. She was overthinking this, too hypersensitive to this sort of tragedy. This time she wasn’t going to sit on her laurels as it happened.

“Watch the house,” Leandra called behind her to the confused elf grabbing her overcoat. Hand on the door she paused suddenly realizing she had no idea where to even start looking. All the stories and gossip and yet she didn’t know the first thing about her daughter's habits during the day.

No matter, today she would, and she knew where to start. “Orana dear did Hawke ever mention where her consort lived?” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break! I've been dealing with bad writers block and research, so I hope this chapter is coherent. As always critiques are welcome!

Leandra approached the mansion Orana had described to her wrapping her shawl closer around her. She was surprised that a lone elf lived in Hightown, so close to her and her daughter no less. Perhaps Hawke in her inebriated state mistook the two estates? She chuckled dryly at the thought, no matter how drunk Vivicca could of been there was no way she could have mistaken the two.

The elderly woman stood at a broken gate and stared up at the dilapidated building. Broken glass scattered the entryway and front gardens. Dead plants lay dejected in the pathway the slight morning breeze blowing dried leaves around her slippers as she walked. Leandra eyed a suspiciously dark brown stain on the cracked pavement. It couldn’t be-

Shuttering Leandra backed away trepidation flooding her, this had to be a mistake Hawke would never associate with a person like this. She must have misheard Orana’s directions, she stood trying to reason with herself. No one would live here...but she had to make sure. Squaring her shoulders she marched forward blood pounding in her ears. She had to know her daughter was safe. Her hand hesitated for a fraction of a second hovering on the splintered door before knocking. Nothing.

“Hello?” She called out peeking into a cracked and grimy window. A shadow moved upstairs out the corner of her eye. Maker preserve her. Leandra went back to the door and drew a quick deep breath. This time hammering on the door till her palm was raw. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

The door opened a crack, hinges creaking under caked on layers of the rust and maker knows what else. The sun cast it’s light in a small strip over a pronounced cheek and bleary green eye. “Leave.” A throaty male voice clipped out and shut the door again.

Leandra stood there baffled for a moment before knocking again. “Please I’m looking for Hawke. Have you seen her?” There was a moment of silence before the door was pulled open as the resident came out. Leandra stepped back uneasy. The elf in front of her was an oddity to be sure. Tall and lithe, the elf stood hunched gaze averted from hers. Shocking white hair framed his sharply defined features. A myriad of intricate tattoos covered his exposed arms and chest twining upwards to his face. The elf scowled pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Please I-I know that Hawke and you are involved… She didn’t come home last night. Is she-could she be with you.”

The defensive nature of his stance loosened a fraction eyes moving to look at the her face before flitting back to the pavement, as if uncomfortable retaining eye contact. “We are- no longer ‘involved’. I haven’t seen her in a few days.” His voice had lost the air of curtness. Leandra looked behind him at the rundown interior.

“Really? I’m sorry to have bothered you. Do you know anywhere she might be?”

He shifted his footing thinking.

“Try the Hanged Man in Lowtown. But go no further then there. Ask for Varric, perhaps he can help.” She tried to thank him but the door was swiftly closed in her face.

She didn’t linger.

**********

Fenris had barely shut the door before he was in his bed chambers to find a clean shirt and grab his blade. That woman must have been Leandra. Their likeness was undeniable. He remembered she had mentioned her once or twice in passing when she would come over for wine and a reading lesson.  

But even on those nights no matter the time or number of bottles she would always go home. Where had she run off to? Surely someone would have notified him sooner if it had been a while. He strapped his chest plate on and fastened his gauntlets wrist, harnessing  his sword in one practiced motion. He had recommended a safer place for her mother to go knowing Varric would look after her. He instead would go deeper into Darktown. Perhaps Hawke was with that mage. His heart twisted in jealousy. He had left her. But that didn’t mean he liked the idea.

Anders was thankfully in his clinic tending to a young man clutching a bloody rag to his arm. Fenris stood by the entrance waiting for the right time to intervene. After the man left Fenris stepped forward. “Have you seen Hawke?” He growled skipping any pleasantries. The blonde mage bristled his back turned to him.

“No not since drinks yesterday evening.” He didn’t turn busy grinding a bushel of dried elfroot.

“Her mother made a house call...She didn’t return home last night.” Anders pause. “Could she be sleeping it off at someone’s house?” Anders turned crossing his arms. Fenris shrugged coolly refusing to show anything around the mage.

“That is not normally like her is it?”

“No.” Anders muttered looking at the ground. “Have you checked with Varric?”

Fenris shook his head turning to the door. “Her mother is looking there now.”

“I’m coming too then.” The blonde snapped hurriedly readying himself. Fenris didn’t stop walking, not wishing to spend anymore time alone with him then he had to. He could feel Anders walking in his shadow also unwilling to be seen beside someone he so disliked. The two walked in silence till they reached the pub. The Hanged Man was dead, it’s doors open for travelers and a few of the morning drinkers, but the regulars didn’t show up until the evening. The men nodded at the barkeep making their way upstairs.

Fenris reached Varric’s door first and entered unnoticed Anders in tow.

“I’m sure Hawke is just sleeping it off. Have you checked with Fen-” Fenris could hear Varric trying to calm her mother through the door.

“I went there first, she wasn’t there.”

“All right, all right. I’m go round up the others, maybe someone has her over.” The door opened and Varric looked up at the two disgruntled men at his door steps. “See messere? They are already showing up.”

“She isn’t with you?” The two taller men asked the dwarf.

“I was hoping one of you would have good news.” Varric sighed rubbing his chin. Leandra behind him “I kept her here. I’m assuming that's why you sent her Broody?” Fenris nodded.

“I’m heading back to my estate,” Leandra piped up. “Maybe she has shown up.” She didn’t sound remotely confident in that statement.

“Of course messere.” Varric turned allowing her out of his room. “How about I collect the rest of us riffraff and we head over there? In an hour, if that suits you?” Leandra nodded quickly leaving the men. 

They stood immobile staring at each other before Varric set up a plan. “I’ll go and get Choir boy and Daisy. Anders why don’t you shadow the misses so she doesn’t wander off.” Anders sighed reluctant in his task as sitter and headed downstairs.

“Fenris why don’t you get Isabella. I believe she went to the Blooming Rose to cheat some unsuspecting templars out of their pouches. I doubt she left there last night. I’ll bring everyone to Hawke’s place.”

“Alright, and if she is with one of them?” The elf grunted following behind.

“Then we all get a turn chewing out her sorry ass for making us worry.” Varric chuckled leading the way outside.

Thankfully for Fenris Isabela wasn’t at the Rose but instead wandering up a walkway a few yards from the back of pub. “Looking for me deary? I’m flattered.” She winked, heavy coin purse jingling on her hip as she bumped shoulders with him.

“Is Hawke with you?”  He asked ignoring her jesting.

“Nope. Pining after her already?” She smirked.

“Her mother fears she is missing. " He continued. "I-she had hoped to find her with one of us.” Isabella glanced side eye at him.

“I had drinks with her and Merrill last evening.” She recounted. “After that she walked Merrill home.”

Fenris nodded already use to this tale.

“Have you checked with Merrill?” She asked.

“No, Varric is getting her and Sebastian. We are meeting at Hawke’s estate to figure this all out.”

Fenris grunted eyes forward. 

When they arrived the rest of the gang was already in front of the Hawke’s estate, Leandra talking quickly to Merrill who looked distraught shaking her head. The others all gathered around talking amongst themselves. Varric beckoned at the last two stragglers.

“I told her to not walk alone but she insisted she was fine. I’m sorry miss…”

“Was anything amiss last night?” Sebastian inquired.

“I didn’t think so.” Varric said pinching the bridge of his nose trying to remember. “There were a lot of new faces last night, more so than usual.”

“A few seemed keen in Hawke...Perhaps she went with one of them?” Merrill trailed off thinking of the implications of her words.

“No-no, she was never like that-too cautious.” Leandra’s voice broke her hand white knuckled on the ironwork railing of the steps.

“Don’t worry messere we will find her safe and sound.” Bodahn said consolingly.

“How?” Leandra asked tears welling in her eyes. They stood around her in the afternoon sun thinking.

“Use Xavier.” Fenris said breaking the silence. “Surly he could track his own master.”

Without another word Bodahn entered the house and returned to them with the mabari in tow. He barked looking at each in turn then back again,as if counting. He whimpered softly seeing that his lady was not among them.

The elder Hawke knelt scratching him under the ear. “Can you find her boy?” He sniffled at her hair and turned back into the house. “Xavier!” The Mabari returned holding a item in his mouth dropping it at Leandra’s feet. The red cloth lay sodden on the ground it’s tattered end shifting in the wind. Fenris’s stomach plummeted, memories clawed at him. It was the second half of the cloth he had torn as a keepsake. The fabric felt heavy on his wrist as he watched the dog sniff at the sister half on the ground and bolt to the west quarter of Hightown, close to the grand staircase.

Fenris took off after the dog not listening to the shouts behind. They would follow suit in moment. Fenris kept close to the dog as he wove in and out of the afternoon crowds stopping only for moments at a time to sniff at a wall or the hem of a person's coat. He bounded down endless alleys though Hightown till he slowed to a trot in Lowtown. Fenris stopped with him listening to the heavy breathing of his fellows behind him.

Xavier moved slowly head low hairs stiff winding down the ever narrowing alleyways before sitting looking expectantly at his traveling companion. Fenris looked around at the ally, it was seedy. Filth and grime coated the walls, cracked barrels lay discarded as rats ran to and fro.

Hawke wasn’t afraid to get dirty but she would never go here willing.

“Andraste it reeks.” Sebastian muttered behind Fenris. Xavier howled near one particularly battered crate. Fenris lead the way to where he stood Varric close behind. He felt light headed. Splattered on the barrel and adjacent wall were a dark red stain ones he knew all too well. Xavier pressed his nose to the stains and whimpered.

“Looks to have been a struggle.” Isabella said. Fenris turned and surveyed the alley again more critically. The sand beneath him had been disturbed deep gouges disrupting the usually packed in earth. A few footprints could be seen. Crouching down he marked the pattern of the prints, shallow heel prints compared to the balls of the feet. Running then someone-he refused to say Hawke- was dragged away. Rising he watched Merrill inspect the walls bits crumbling under her delicate fingers. Black scorch marks ran up along either side in swiping arches. A metallic tang lay heavy in the air tasting like salt and sea, stronger than the normal scent of the docks.

“Primal,” Merrill whispered to no one in particular, touching the rivets in the stone. “Had to be Hawke.”

“This magic was sloppy.” Anders chimed in looking over her shoulder. “Hastily done, no real planning. It doesn’t even look like she hit her target.”

“Someone jump her?”

 “If they did,” Varric said looking around for more clues. “Then this was calculated.”

“It didn’t start here.” Fenris added. “There is blood here but it wasn’t sprayed but dripped from a previously open wound.” He eyed the dog it’s massive head stuck in between two buildings that created a narrow passageway. Fenris moved the dog away and peered in.

In the low lighting he could see blood left behind from bare skin scraping the walls and scorch marks bounced up the walls. “She was here, look there that looks like lighting markings here too.” Fenris turned facing the party faces mirroring his look of fear.

“Merrill and Isabela,” Varric butted in not looking into the alley. “ Why don’t you two head back to the Misses. Anders, Sebastian double back, question anyone you see down here. Go see if Aveline is on duty, she can put the city guard on this. Fenris,” Varric turned stopping his orders for a moment looking into the elf’s eyes.

He tried to look calm but he could feel the color draining from his face. “You and me will take the mutt and finish the trail. Let’s meet back up with Leandra at sundown.” There was a round of agreement as the party split up. Fenris and Varric didn’t move as the others passed by. The dwarf walked closer putting a hand on the elf’s forearm.

“Come on,” Fenris snapped pulling his arm away. “We don't have time to lose.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are picking up (kinda). Comments and critics welcome!

“We won’t give up Ma’am. Hawke will come back safe and sound.” Aveline smiled reassuringly squeezing Leandra’s shoulders as she rose from the old oak chair she perched on beside the grief stricken woman. “The Viscount has sent out word to the other cities too.”  She added feeling the dead air with some-hopefully- good news. Leandra nodded quietly looking out the window of her old family home. 

_ You are the one who wished for the house back, looks better with you in here then a slave trade. Don’t worry I washed the blood of the stones!   _ The memory of Hawke’s harsh laughter echoed down the empty halls looming over the aged woman. Both women jumped as the afternoon bell chimed overhead, signalling for prayer. Leandra’s eyes roved to the door expectantly, as if any moment her girl would enter handing her coat to a servant. A story on her lips of the days adventures. But the door stayed closed, no servants bustling about going to fix the younger Hawke a drink and something to eat. No friends barging in moments later on her heels either to ask for help or to join her for a meal. The estate always seemed to be overflowing her people and energy, bringing life to a house with so many bittersweet memories. No-no with Vivicca missing, it seemed the heart of the house had disappeared with her.

Four months- four excruciating months since her eldest has gone missing. Carver had been notified sending back a hasty reply saying he and his fellow wardens would keep an eye out, promising to return if once his missions were complete. Aveline and her guard had been questioning everyone in Kirkwall, top to bottom. A whole section of the guard that Vivicca had befriended volunteering.

It touched her heart to see how many people in Lowtown and Darktown were offering to help anyway they could. Hearing the stories around town the past months of how selfless (and brisk) Hawke was made her swell with pride, and shame. All the years she had harped on Hawke yelled at her blamed her for Bethany, for Carver. Pushed her harder and harder…

“You will tell me if you make any progress right?”

“Of course Sarrah.” Avaline smiled saluting her before exiting the house. Once the heavy door banged shut  Avaline’s smile faded to a pinched frown. Turning sharply she set a brisk pace to the all too familiar decrypted mansion close to Hawke’s.

She didn't bother to knock, the door was never locked anymore.

She nodded to Merrill who sat in the shade of the one still living tree on the estate, tome in hand copying something from its pages. For some unspoken reason Fenris’s mansion had become the unofficial base for the gang. The Hanged man was too crowded, no many prying eyes. Hawke’s estate was a no go too. No one could bring themselves to trouble that poor woman more with this lost cause. Fenris’s place was quiet, unsuspecting, and with the rumors of being haunted no came near. The gang-minus herself and Anders had all but set up shop here. Plenty of rooms for each to have their own space yet still be close enough to jump into action at a moments notice. For once Fenris didn’t seem to mind the constant cacophony of so many in his space.

They all noticed how morose he had become over the seemingly never ending months. Even Anders abuse did nothing to stoke his eire like it use to. Worry lines seemed forever etched on his face now. He had regressed back into the shadow of himself, the Fenris that had joined the party always looking over his shoulder afraid to make eye contact, to even breath fearful someone would notice him. He was gaunt, armor fitting loosely over his frame. Eye puffy from lack of sleep and stress. No one was fairing well from this, but he was taking it hardest of all.

Fenris ignored it all, focusing all his energy in helping Varric. Tirelessly sending messages, tracking down leads, patrolling the old underground slave roads. Avaline climbed the stairs going to the door on the far right that was now Varric’s office. The place was covered wall to wall with posters, letters and leads, read thread pinned and trailing across the room. It would have been laughable under different circumstances. The dwarf sat in the center of the chaos scribbling quietly on a roll of parchment.

“Good afternoon Avaline any news?” He asked eyes not leaving his parchment

“None of any use.”

Varric sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. He had expected that but it still stung.

“She'll show up soon no doubt,” Aveline said sitting beside the dwarf grabbing a report. They both know she wasn't confident in her words. 

“Kirkwalls secrets don't last long” Isabella had said that fateful night when they had grouped up to figure out a plan. She had said she would work the patrons at the rose and the pub for any information, also keep an ear out at the docks. While Sebastian and Varric took on Hightown. Aveline was busy with the guard so she would work with that. Merrill agreed she would do well asking in the alienage, and the elven servants in the area. Anders and Fenris, while working separately would take Lowtown and Darktown.

It surprised Avaline that no one had turned up anything even with their skills and connections. “Something isn't right” she muttered absentmindedly not focusing on the report. Varric looked up for his work eyebrow raised.

“Besides this whole situation?”

“How have we found out nothing at all? Everyone's lips are locked up tighter than the Viscount's coin purse.” Avaline continued ignoring the quib.

Varric nodded scratching his nose with the quill tip. “it's troubling no doubt... someone with a lot of money and power is fucking with us,” he handed her a large scroll of paper. “I've looked at every large family from the Marches to Orlias. Can't find any connections. No one has a motive-” his words were drowned out by a high pitch scream and the splintering of the door buckling under the weight of a man being thrown viciously through it.

The man scrambled to his feet smearing blood and other bodily fluids on the floor as he tried to run shoving through two towering figures at the door.

“Sebastian! Fenris what in Andraste’s name-”

They ignored her, Fenris landing a kick to the man's chest making him topple again.

“He knows something,” Sebastian spat not stopping the elf's rage as his foot put more pressure on the sputtering man chest. Avaline pulled Fenris off the cowering man to get a better look at him. Her eyes widened in disbelief. How could they have over looked  _ him _ .

It was the Magistrate who hired Hawke to save his son. Hawke did, or had let Fenris ‘save’ him from his mortal coil. She looked at Varric and Sebastian who had roughly grabbed him under the arms.

“Where is she?” Varric growled looking the man in the eyes.

“Don't touch me you heathens the Viscount-” the rest of his words were blocked by a sudden eruption of blood from his nose.

“Varric!” the guard captain shouted in anger still with a firm grip on Fenris’s shoulder. Varric ignored her wiping the blood from his fist.

“What did you do to her?” Sebastian asked his voice raised over the magistrate’s cries of pain.

“How do we know he-” The captain of the guard tried again.

“We heard him Avaline! Talking to carelessly to a sailor at the docks.” Fenris anger etched in his body lyrium glowing dangerously. Avaline wasn't holding him back anymore sear rage was. The elf's thin frame shaking. She stared blankly at the disgusting mess of a man at her feet.

“Where is she?” Avaline barked cooly.

“Six feet under for all I care!” he shouted back wiping at the blood on his face.

“ You better pray not.” Sebastian whispered voice dropping in anger. The man cowered back.

“I-I don't know a man approached me one evening with gold and a plan. He knew I hated that traitorous bitch... All he needed was some men who know the area.” He whimpered looking around, finally realizing the true danger he was in.

“He was a foreigner?” Fenris asked.

“Yes from Tevinter I suspect from the accent.”

“What?” the room felt cold suddenly all eyes on Fenris he's eyes burrowing into the magistrate.

“Tall, gray haired Tevinter….said he had a score to settle with her.”

“Broody…”

Fenris said nothing his eyes going blank for a moment all life leaving his body. “Out…” His voice barely reaching a whisper.

Avaline backed away slowly his tattoos glowing dangerously feeling the cool heat of it pulsing. She looked at the other three in the room, all frozen in their spots.

“Everyone out.”

“Fenris...locking up now isn't going to help.” Sebastian replied hands up in front of him as if to calm the smaller man.

“GET OUT!” Fenris roared his skin crackling with raw power. Eyes still locked on the now blithering politician in front of him. His companions retreating to the door.

“Wait! Don't leave me here.” The man cried out after them crawling to them, arms searching for redemption. Blue wrapped around his ankle dragging him back and throwing him further from the exit. The other retreated back turned blind to his pleads. Alone with a enraged elf the magistrate faced his death.

**********

“That's gonna be a mess to clean up.” Varric sighed. The rest of the gang had shown up since the time they all had left and convened at the Hanged Man. The three of them had filled in the rest. All not taking the news well.

“What are we going to do?” Merrill asked wiping a tear from her eye squeezing her mug tightly.

“Easy we trade them, Fenris for Hawke.” Anders said simply.

“We aren't trading anyone for anyone.” Varric frowned but secretly weighed their options. Hawke would never let one of them trade themselves for her. Especially giving Fenris back to Denarius. No the only way to get Hawke back was to go after her. But how…

“Who is going to tell Leandra?” Isabella asked in the silence. No one made eye contact.

“I will.” Fenris entered Varric’s room quietly. Eyes down cast shoulders slumped in submission, broken and bent under the weight of the situation . Guilt radiated from him. The warrior threw a key and a pouch on the table, gold spilling from it. Fresh blood staining the pouch and table. “This is all the magistrate had on him. Perhaps it will be of some use.” He turned his back to the somber group and made his escape, his day not yet done.


	6. Chapter 6

Vivicca woke to darkness, body stiff and immobile. Breath hitching she retched, the after effects of the drug pumping in her veins making it hard to focus, even breath.

Panic clenched at the heart. Regardless of her condition she needed to get out of here. Chained with no magic, where would she even start? Claustrophobia set in fast, eyes swiveling to look at the blackness surrounding her on all six sides. What time was it? Was she still on the ship? On land? She smelled no salt and felt no rocking motions around her. How long was she under? Maker how far had they taken her? Gulping greedily for the cold air the panic spread encasing her chest winding down her spine. It’s grip turning vice like choking her.

_ Sense your surroundings, know the danger so you can overcome it. _

Malcolm’s words swept over her, prying the grip from her lungs. He had trained her for this- if templars ever got to her or Bethany. This was no different, panicking would only get her killed. Or worse.

This time she breathed deeply centering herself, and searched for something to ground her to reality. This was a test of will- of focus. Like everything else in her life she would overcome it. Every scar, broken bone, open wound a testimony to her perseverance. This- _ this _ will not be her downfall.

Painting against the pain blooming in her she relaxed listening to her body. Muscles screamed with exertion, gravity pulling at her from where she dangled, metal cuffs cutting deep into her skin. Toes skimming wet stone. She clenched her fist praying for feeling in her throbbing digits. Her fingers brushed the warm metal of her binds. Dried blood coated the shackles, hard and crusting over. The metal was coarse and brittle, the rust puncturing her. She winced rotating a cuff ripping the scabs growing from her wrist to the rust, fusing her to the shackles fresh blood oozing down her arm sluggishly. In vain she tried to use the wetness to slip her hands through, she couldn’t risk breaking her bones though. No hands ment no fist, no fists no fighting when the inevitable happened.

Cursing she stopped the pain becoming too much. Spots formed in her vision from exhaustion, bright and intrusive. She just needed a minute…

Consciousness came back slowly the second time, feeble but persistent despite her desire to rest longer. This was the void. She was sure of it, she had died and for her sin her soul had been cast to the depths, alone to suffer. No food, no water, no sense of time or space delirium pulled at her.  Father's words of perseverance gone, replaced with the nothingness that was her existants now. The vast emptiness clawed at her burying itself deep festing in her psyche. Some days when the scratching became too much her screams would drown them out. Her pain absorbed into the stone reverberating back at her at a fever pitch. 

As eternity pasted she grew deaf to the cries, numb to the pain, she collapsed into herself begging for an end-the cold vastness consuming her. 

*************

“How’s my little pet this evening?” Danarius asked giddy with anticipation stepping into his observation room. His apprentices busying themselves with notes and retelling her progress to him. He nodded stroking his chin peering at the body below him. 

She lay eyes closed shivering and seizing on the cold slab of his operation table, fighting against the magically induced slumber keeping her from waking. His assistants tended to her skin. The runes and symbols carved into the stone pulsed suppressing the raw magic now boiling under her skin. Bandages wrapping around her body shifted and loosened under their ministrations. Fresh tattoos shown bright with blood, or was it lyrium? The magister smiled sadistically. What a prize he had created.

The months of preparation, isolation to break her down. He needed a empty willing husk under the knife and needle for this to work. Fenris had been been willing, had fought for the right. Hawke needed more-convincing. Three weeks it took before she went silent, so strong, so unbreakable. She had been so much harder to tame than her predecessor but this had all been worth it. Before the branding he had taken her out on a few test runs. To show a few lesser magisters he was not to be trifled with. Even unmarked she had been lethal, clean and efficient the way she used her own body as a staff to focus her mana...such an ingenious and complex way of casting. He had heard of the idea in theory, many younger fool hardy mages had tried. None had survived, their bodies unfit to channel such raw power. But yet this backwater bitch had? How? What was her secret?

He snorted. No point in asking now. He doubted she would tell him even when she was sane.

Ah well no point crying over spilled lyrium.

“How much longer till she is functional? My backers will be wanting a show.”

One of the students stepped in to answer rifling through his paper. “We could wake her now sir. The swelling is down, tattoos tempered and are now dormant. We ran several trials while you were away and touched up any leaks or breaks in the work. By our reports she should be ready for show at your orders.” 

Danarius nodded turning to exit the room to watch his newest project awaken signalling for them to proceed. 

The woman stirred from her slumber slinking to the grim covered floor beneath them hissing in relief from the cool stone on her feverish skin. With his first success he had held back a little with his research. This time he let his work have full rein. 

Her face wrappings shifted revealing the tattoo streaked mocking over the bridge of her nose, the war paint now perminited. Fitting. Energy unraveled around them. A beast stirring from its forced slumber. The air palpable with heat and barely bridled power. It made the lyrium in his veins pump faster. 

Fear or excitement? 

Danarius stood over her watching her body contort as she struggled to move without causing pain. A vain task but enjoyable to watch. She stopped only when his heavy boot made contact with her shoulder flipping her to look up at her master. He gasped in pleasure as he peered into the void itself. The physical changes this time had been drastic, but luckily just as beautiful. Once hazel irises now carried thin rings of red, bleeding into bright blue pigmentation webbing till it reached her pupils circling it too with a thin band of red. Her sclera had dimmed from a healthy white now to tinged gray. Time would tell if they healed back or change colors completely. 

Chestnut curls now streaked with bright strips of auburn flowed weightless around her, caught in a gentle breeze though they were miles below the surface. He shuddered in euphoria fingers grasping onto a bundle of hair pulling her to standing. Wisps of red bellowed from her clenched teeth while she struggled to gain her footing. Danarius had read stories as a child of wraiths, demons and ghost. The descriptions always vague or nonsensical something so many tried to depict or replicate in art. But none had perfected the image-till now. The perfect combination of beauty and lethality, demonic and ethereal aesthetic all wrapped in a neat bow.

His magnum opus.

Fenris paled in comparison. Such a waste of flesh. But flesh that belonged to him nonetheless. 

Hawke’s hair in hand the older mage spun dragging her to the door. “Come puppet, the world awaits us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait this chapter was ridiculously hard to write for some reason! Had to write a bunch of versions and edit them before deciding to cut it into two separate chapters. So chapter seven post soon(ish)!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jebus sorry for the mini hiatus! Between my computer breathing it's last and a couple gigs I didn't realize how much time had pasted!  
> Like always thanks for reading.  
> Comments and criticism always appreciated!

Hawke staggered behind her master careful not to tread on him or his billowing robes. Her eyes following the gold and silver thread hand stitching of his coat tail losing track of direction in the labyrinth of corridors.

“I want her gleaming! Tell that seamstress her clothes better be here before the first guest sets a toe in my estate!” Danarius barked throwing her roughly though a entryway. Leaving her to the will of her worst nightmare.

Hadriana looked down an upturned nose at the sunken woman, hollow cheeks pulled in a pursed sneer. With a wave of her hand she beckoning the servants forward. “You heard the master- don’t be gentle now! She needs to be squeaky clean!”

Hawke trembled, cold air hitting her newly branded skin, dirty bandages unraveled and pitched. Instinctively she tried to cover her nakedness moving to cover her bruised and marked breast. She stopped making eye contact with the mage, smirk blooming on her pinched face. Hadriana took too much pleasure in disciplining her, trying to hide from the servants onslaught would be the perfect excuse.

The elves paid her no mind too busy in their task to care about her comfort. Frigid water hit her stealing her breath from the initial shock. After a few more buckets the water felt good on the searing pain that was her flesh. The rough clothes they rubbed her down with was the real challenge. Each wipe on her skin felt as bad as the blades they scored her with. She stood taking the abuse watching the water trickling down her legs turning brown with blood and dirt.

“Brought this on yourself, messing with stolen property.” Hadriana drowled picking at a fleck of dirt under her nail.

Stolen property? Hawke grit her teeth racking her tattered brain for clues. When had she ever stolen from Master? The harder she looked back the fuzzier her recollection got. The only sharp images were those of that stone slab and Masters “trial runs”. Anything past that was dark confusing snippets of distorted scenes and faded voices. Bad thoughts-thoughts that got her thrown back in the dark room for mentioning. They physically hurt to dwell on in.

Was this what Fenris went through?

Hawke bit back a scream teeth sinking into her slip to suppress the sound. Spine curling in as though hit her like a punch to the gut. These were bad thoughts, the ones Master _hated_. The dark room would be a reprieve from what physical punish she would get for uttering that name again.     

 

“Were you thinking again _pet_?”

 

“Never my lady.”

 

Hadriana snorted throwing a clean breast band and a pair of soft leather leggings at her damp body instructing the slaves to feed and dress her quickly. She left shortly after without another glance beckoning heavily armed guards into the room.

Hawke followed her vanguard in silence, eyes down cast as she shuffled through the dimly lit halls before being manhandled through a large archway to a brightly lit dining hall. She bowed low at the waist once she had properly entered the large dinning hall.

The room at large fell silent magisters craning in their seats to peer at the new subject as she entered. She rose catching the looks of depravity on several faces. Few faces scattered about held her with intrigue, others barely glancing at her seemingly bored with her arrival. But one face caught her attention with a look she rarely saw- utter disgust and sympathy.

He was a younger man sitting slightly behind one of the older magister busy talking to a young man stationed at his side. He flashed her a almost unnoticeable smile, immaculate mustache twitching above. She stared blankly back hoping he had no interest in her, praying his attention would go elsewhere. Sympathy was not something given freely here, especially to her.

“My friends!” Danarius cried out drawing all eyes to him as he stood raising a goblet in celebration. “I finally present you the fruits of our labor!” The others followed suit voices exclaiming out in praise and excitement lifting their collective cups to him. Hawke turned her gaze to him trying to block the young man from her sights.

“Kneel before your betters bitch!” Danarius barked directing his attention to the battered woman before him. She fell like a mannequin cut from her strings to the floor knees thudding hard to the marble.

“My so obedient!” A high feminine voice started from the row of dining chairs, hunger evident in her praise.

“Patience my friend!” He chortled. “The night is still so young…”

Hawke’s stomach turned in dread. She didn’t like them, didn’t liked being shared. She barely liked Masters touches. On the occasions he demanded “company” her mind wandered to softer fingers, light kiss, bright green gaze warming her from the inside out. Silken white hair tickling her body. Sweet wine and crisp apple scent feeling her nostrils.

Her nails scored the marble in a vain attempt to distract herself. It hurt so much to think about, but it was addicting. Where they memories? Daydreams? It didn’t matter-they kept her sane, they kept her breathing though the worst of it.

Distracted by her internal struggle for control she missed her order to rise, oblivious to the humming of whispers around her. “PET!” Danarius roared throwing his goblet at her clipping her shoulder, wine soaking into her clothing. Yelping in surprise she raised her head. “Stand at attention you ingrate!” He turned to his guest face changing to one of congeniality. “My apologies- she still requires some more _conditioning_.”

“But that is neither here nor there! Tonight's a night of celebration- a dinner and a show of might! Look at what the greatest mind in Thedas can accomplish! What _I_ created!” The crowd cheered at his words the pride and excitement nearly palpable in the air.

Danarius strode into the center of the room stalking around her till he faced her front running a slim finger down her glowing cheek. Hawke stood statuesque as the finger travelled lower along her neck and collar stopping above her bust line. The red lyrium burned his flesh, but he paid it no mind. It would not harm him-even if she tried.

“Please sit back my friends allow me to indulge in a little monologue.” He turned back to the room at large fingers running up to grip her cheeks tightly keeping her ridged. The room settled many at the edge of their seats looking expectantly at him to proceed.

“None of this would have been possible this little one harboring my previous project.” He paused for dramatasium. Suddenly his claw ringed fingers clamped down on her cheeks drawing blood as his tone turned deadly.

“I admit I was at my wits end for a bit reading the reports of him being so close to my grasp-yet so well guarded. I even weighed the option of going to Kirkwall myself to retrieve my property. I was distraught-after all I’d done for him? And he goes and hides under her skirt? Such a pity... _such a waste of flesh_ that one. Off playing adventure with some merry band of misfits. But did the stars not align for us that fateful day?”

Hawke stared blankly ahead trying hard to recall what he was talking about. Groups? Adventures? No-no she was born here. Out in darkness and fear. He was her past, present and future whether she liked it or not, no matter how much it hurt. He was all that she had. So then why was he making up such stories?

“An abandoned Thaig-buried further than anyone had ventured before.” Her mind focused back in on his incisive droning realizing he had released her face and was now pacing the table. She wiped absentmindedly at the drying trail of blood on her cheeks watching his performance.

“Such riches my friends! An archaeological treasure trove! And this little one was just selling it off. But one piece caught my eye more than any other,” Snapping his fingers a servant came forward seemingly from nowhere holding up a velvet lined box.

Hawkes breath escaped her as the artifact was lifted gingerly from its box. Her blood and markings sang loudly as the muted magic of the item was released. It drowned out the noise of her master and the crowd. She couldn’t stand to be near it, the foreign lyrium now raging through her veins screamed for protection for that-that _prison._ It hated that thing, she had tried to destroy the artifact many times at the behest of Master. But as soon as she neared it her body shut down,like her very skin was trying to crawl away from it. She couldn’t touch it, they couldn’t go near it.

 

Master slept with it under his pillow.

 

“A remarkable find.” He continued gazing down lustfully at his jewel. “I waited for it anxiously-as I’m sure you all did too upon reading my letters. When that precious day arrived that it was to be here, imagine my surprise that my courier was missing. Had the knife ear absconded with my rightful property? A trend I am tiring of quickly…” He sniggered at himself before jerking his head to the far door behind Hawkes back. Guards swarmed surrounding it weapons at the ready. They moved in unison opening the heavy wrought iron doors.

Chaos erupted around them, magisters and guest alike screaming at the visage lumbering in before them. Hawke didn’t have to turn to know what they were looking at. She had seen him before, before Master put her under the knife. He had promised if she held still she wouldn’t turn into _that_.

The once elf towered over the guards on his sides his heavy foot falls shaking the ground underneath. He was a behemoth now. Body overtaken by angry jagged rocks of red distorting his proportions. Hawke had equated him to the golems of old, large, stony, and mindless.

Very little of his pale flesh could be seen now, almost all had been flayed off by the intrusion of the lyrium. Chunks fell away shattering on the floor only to be quickly engulfed back into his body, more like what a molten metal would do then a solid mass. He lumbered to a halt mere feet from Hawkes left side. Her nerves lighting up at his closeness, tattoos growing hotter.

“Unsightly isn’t it?” Danarius mussed picking at a spot of dirt on his robe. “An interesting side effect of constant exposure. Though it doesn’t seem to affect people born with lyrium in their veins.I have many hypothesis as to why…” He shrugged nodding at the guards to chain the elf down.

The crowd calmed seeing that the head of the house cared little for the goings on returning to his seat. Now all eyes lay on the red stained woman and the elf of stone. A heavily jeweled magister finally broke the silence leaning from his place at the table.

“What gave you the idea to brand a fellow mage?” His voice thick and heavily accented held a faint trace of trepidation. They all knew Danarius was deranged, truly power hungry, a danger if crossed. But surely not even he would...not to his own kind.

Danarius laughed casually brushing off the hidden question. “This backwater dog being a mage was a mere coincidence. She was always going to be the one I tested this on- a deserving punishment for her transgressions against me. But I never thought her natural talent would have such an effect on my research. A pleasant bonus for all our hard work no? But enough of all that! Did I not promise you a show! Behold the shifting tides for Tevinter!” The crowd cheered hungry for blood, rabid for action.

Hawke turned to her unwilling opponent knowing this poorman’s time was up. This would be a mercy- no one should suffer like this man. She wasn’t a mindless killer. She was helping.

Right?

Then why was she so excited?

The red lyrium inside her hummed expectantly waiting for her next move. The once elf roared catching the energy emitting for her struggling against his bindings. Labored breathing echoing off the stone as the crowd silenced. He was dying, slowly and painfully she should help him...then Master would be pleased. With a wave of his hand he sentenced the man to his death.

The behemoths binds explode in a shower of gold as the magic keeping him at bay was lifted. He charged roaring in rage and fear, club like arm raised to strike. He left himself wide open.

Hawke didn’t even call apun her newly branded skin of the first strike, her body subconsciously  reverting back to a fight stance she never remembered practicing. Lighting flowed through her focusing in her palm as he swung. She caught the blow feeling her smaller frame creak under the pressure bare feet sliding across marble from the momentum.

Like a detonating charge the lighting cuped in her hand burst shattering the crystalline arm into pieces. Its wielder reeling in pain stumbled back mouth agape as the shards slowly seeped back into his body. He tried again to the same effect, his brute force no match for her. Her primal magic slowly chipping down on his defenses and subsequently his regeneration time. His vulnerable flesh was open to her, lyrium unable to meld itself back to his skin. She had toyed with him enough, surely master would agree?

She turned to the man in question eyes sweeping his face for his smirk of satisfaction. He scowled back unimpressed with the show. “Use the gift I gave you unthankful creature.” Hawke grimaced, it hurt-it always hurt to call forth the lyrium. But he waited impatiently, anymore delays and whatever pain she would feel now would be nothing to what she could expect. Groaning she closed her eyes regressing into herself to channel his ‘gift’.  

Hawke dove deep into her blue ocean of mana. The electric feel of it lighting her nerves pleasantly, like an old friend. The warmth and comfort becking to her to stay in the shallow waters, pleading with her not to swim deeper. She ignored it pushing past the embrace and into the colder depths, the blue turning dull replaced with a foggy red.

She approached the barrier blocking this new taint from her old magic reaching out for it slowly. Behind the barrier the scarlet glome swam in lazy circles almost mockingly _it took you long enough…_ Hawkes fingers brushed the barrier and the red mimicked become opaque as it touched her skin traversing her dark skin in the patterns she so detested.

The room at large watched in fascination at the mage channeling her mana. The tattoos glowed stretching ripping from her body in thick jagged lines taking its favorite form knowing what she needed. They didn’t need much to finish the job, too much would overexert her. And that wouldn’t be good for either of them.

The markings on her right forearm extended encasing her arm in it hardening as it stretched into a deadly dual edged sword, its long point touching her calf. Both armor and weapon in one. While calling forth such power didn’t take much time, it was just enough for her opponent to recover. Eyes like embers she stared down the advancing mass.

She stuck with viper like speed and just as lethal. The moment the newly reformed club embedded itself into the floor she leaped up using his arm as a perch she rendered his head from his shoulders, the forward momentum of his lunge helped bury the the blade deep. It cut through bone and sinew like his body was made of paper. Innocent blood soaked her to the bone.

Disgusting.

Yet the warmth was intoxicating.

Hawke bowed low as applause erupted around the room. The noise drowning out the sound of a lifeless body thudding to the floor shattering like spun glass as it made contact with the earth. Her the lyrium reverting back to its original form cooling on her skin.

“Amazing no!” Danarius roared soaking up the attention being thrust upon him and his newest toy. “Come my friends why not an encore!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slow chapter but things are picking up soon I promise just...gotta...edit...*collapses dramatically*

Leandra buried her daughter that morning.

 A small clay jar filled with a few of Hawke's most prized possessions; a tub of her war paint, a silk bookmark, her favorite mint tea, and a small scrap of red fabric she had found under her pillow one morning. The sun set slowly bouncing off the evening fog, stars emerging languidly in the darkening sky.

 Hawke’s favorite time of day.

 The elderly woman shuddered in grief. How many more would be taken from her before the Maker was satisfied? Her daughters dead and buried. Carver off to fall in some underground grave with the rest of those old legends.The only saving grace was that her late husband would be there to welcome them home and pick up from where she failed.

 Gamlen stood next to her wrapping a gruff arm around her rubbing her shoulder to ward off the chill. He had suggested this, as a way to let go. To move on. _“It’s been a year and a half Leandra!”_ He had shouted though her bolted bedroom door earlier that week, bellowing over her sobs. _“Hawke- Vivicca isn’t coming back.”_

 She didn’t want to believe him- didn’t want to believe the _truth_. She knew if her baby was still breathing she would have founded a way home, to at least send a message. She always came back. Leandra had raised a fighter with that one. But she had lost faith, and with it hope.

 The city had gone into mourning with her. Memorial wreaths where hung. Statue cleaned and polished, adorned with offerings and letters. Bards were finishing up their poetry and songs. Nobles holding banquets and feasts in her honor, while Lowtown raised their glasses. Like everyone was grieving over a damned saint.

 Leandra scoffed bitterly, the hypocrisy of the nobles disgusted her. When Hawke walked the Hightown markets, stalked the gilded quarters they all but spit in her face. _Maker she calls herself an Amel? Nobility my how the name has fallen? Such despicable manners, what_ **_is_ ** _she wearing. Another waterlogged dog stealing scraps. Should be back in Lowtown._ They would be the first to turn face once everything settled and the gossip emerged. Soon they would all be talking down her daughter’s memory.

 But she refused to let it get to her. Hawke was a hero of the people. The men with no names, no privilege or titles. The ones cast to the wayside. From the stories she heard from the common citizen filled her with pride. Hawke put her neck on the line daily for them. They would never forget what she had done with her friends.

 Leandra turned looking behind her at Hawke’s group. Maker bless them- her dearest friends.

 Over the months of searching this group had become like children to her, a second family. Her home open to them for anything, food, shelter, comfort. They kept her company, Merrill and Anders taking up residency looking after her along with the help of Bartrand.

 By day Leandra spent her time with the petite elf teaching her how to bake enjoying the time with her and Oriana. Teaching little tips and tricks she had picked up over the years. Though most of the time she was learning from them. Oriana had a knack for blending the best teas for any occasion and Merrill knew substitutes for nearly any ingredient. It got to a point were she brought ink and paper every time they met.

 Some afternoons Avaline and her husband would come by with Sebastian in tow. They would make pleasantries in the gardens and offer any news they had heard. But as time went by their visits became less frequent.

 By night Anders arrived with Isabella- a spit fire of a woman she could see why Vivicca loved her so much, and Varric- a sharp eyed but a soft heart made her fall for him immediately. He looked after the lot like a father figure for the party. A calmer less judgmental man. Quick with his words but stoic in his actions. They would spend hours talking about anything and everything drinking whatever she could find from the cellars. It had helped her pass the year.

She caught the dwarfs eye and smiled faintly.

They stood informally in a semicircle looking out at the setting sun over the estates garden in reflection. She had told them they didn’t need to be here for this. Watching a old woman pitying herself. Yet they arrived. All except one. The circle left a small opening at the between Sebastian and Oriana for him.

 She knew he wouldn't show not after the last time they met, the unforgivable things she said. But she had hoped he would show. To have a chance to talk to him. For all he meant to her daughter he deserved at least that.

 The rest of their little ceremony passed quietly as she lay her daughter’s jar down next to the small jars she had made in memory of her other lost loves, all nestled neatly in the garden wall. By the time they finished the moon was high over head, bright in the cloudless night.

 Varric come up with the idea to finish the night with a game of cards and drinks. “Hawke was serious at times but never morose. I'd rather honor her doing something she liked.”  His signature smirk back on his face.

 “I haven't played in _years_.” Leandra chuckled passing around a old bottle of wine.

 “Don't worry ma'am I'll make sure they don't cheat _too_ much.” Avaline smiled throwing a cursory glance over at the dwarf shuffling the deck and Isabella. The pirate winked coyly at the steely glance.

 “And that's why you never win love.”

 The night passed with stories and laughter and perhaps too much drink. Till finally Leandra waved them out tiring in the wee hours of the morning. Bodhan and Oriana had retired earlier leaving Leandra to finish up.

 She trudged down the empty halls wrapping her shawl tighter around her thinning shoulders. She wasn't tired but for as much as a reprieve from her sorrow the game had been she needed to be alone.

 Without thinking her feet took her down the hall to the gardens.

Faint hitched breath caught her attention, padded slipper touching cold stone to the entrance of the garden. She jumped looking around the vine covered wall.

Hawke’s missing member of the party sat behind the partition wall. Head hunched nestled between his curled legs. Long lean arms pulsing blue were braced against his knees fingers knotted in his hair. He sat a side an unopened bottle of wine and a rather tattered book placed neatly on Hawke’s engraved plaque.

 She stood rigid watching the elf's shoulders shake as he tried to stifle his noises.

 “Going to put a woman in an early grave popping out of nowhere like that.” Leandra chuckled softly.

 “I am cursed to do just that it seems.” He rasped unmoving voice thick and hoarse from over use.

 Leandra winced at her careless joke, her words from months ago stinging the air. She padded softly closer to his hunched form. “I was hoping to see you yesterday,” she started voice low coming to sit on the bench adjacent to him. “I was hoping to apologize-”

 “There is no need.” Fenris spoke rising to unsteady feet, though he did look like he had been drinking. “All you said was the truth.”

 “No-it was unbecoming of me. She trusted you-”

 “And look what that got her-” His voice cracked dangerously eye darting to look at the ground by her feet.

 “You know ‘tis rather rude to keep interrupting your elders.” Leandra look at him placatingly. He stiffened at the light admonishment. “Would you like some tea? When was the last time you had a decent meal?” She rose placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

 For all that had happened she knew that none of this was his fault, Vivicca was an adult, her own woman. She could do what she pleased. She wanted to help him, her heart had always been in the right place. He had done nothing but asked...

 Hawke wouldn't want her to blame him.

 Fenris caught her eye for a fraction of second before stepping from her gentle touch. “Please don't.”

 “Don't?”

 “I am _undeserving_.” The elf spat teeth clenched.

 Leandra faltered before coming forward again as head strong as her daughter. “That's the funny thinking about it though. You can't really decide if you deserving or not. ”

 “You sound like her.”

 “She had to get it from somewhere...”

 His lip twitched threatening a smile before he coughed cover it up. “It doesn't matter, I’ll be leaving soon.”

 Leandra snapped back in surprise. She knew that none of Hawke’s friends were obligated to stay in Kirkwall but she never thought they would leave so soon. Fear overtook her senses, all it took was one leaving to loosen the threads that held their lives together here. She didn’t want to be alone again.

 “Why?” She asked selfishly.

 “I can no longer stay here and put anyone else in danger for me. It is clear that Danarius will do anything-will go though anyone to punish me.”

 She scoffed indignant. “And you think leaving will keep us safe? Don’t be foolish. You’re safer here in numbers...with people that care about your safety.”

 “Do you include yourself in that?” He asked brow raised genuinely curious with her answer. Leandra flushed.

 “Please consider it Fenris.” She ignored the question, this was for no other reason then to honor her daughter’s wishes. Perhaps in time she could forgive him.

 Fenris appraised her silently. “I see-I will think on it, thank you.”

 Leandra nodded rising to head to bed as the elf hopped the low garden wall. “Do remember to knock next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading! comments and criticism welcomed!


	9. Chapter 9

Spring arrived early in Kirkwall. Citizens milling about readying for the festivals and upcoming crop season. The city was a buzz with activity, everyone enjoying the prospect of feasting and drinking.

Avaline wished she could be one of them.

But spring meant only one thing to her- the start of monsoon season. Maker what an awful creation. Rain was one thing, everything needed it. The city was cleaner when it came, the fresh scent. The stone and bronze coating the city glistening. But no. Kirkwall wasn’t a place that would let the waters do what they wanted. Come in clean up the streets and get flushed to sea. No-no _everything_ about this fucking city had to be difficult.

Apparently the original architects of this stone prison had never heard of a proper drainage system. As soon as the downpour started everything came up. Darktown was no doubt already filling with filth from the upper two towns. She shuddered remembering last season. Anders clinic would be filled with people sick from wadding in Maker knows what, and drinking contaminated water. Another season of near pledges and six inches of shit and flood waters, perfect.

But that wasn’t her job-that would be easy comparatively to what she had to deal with. The reason she detested the season was because of the bodies. Like clockwork the floaters would drift up floating down the rivers that once were the streets. Most of her time would be spent down bellow identifying bodies with her men or properly disposing of them before the smell reached Hightown.

How many of those bodies down here were still from her time with Hawke? Avaline chuckled bitterly drawing her heavy cloak around her tighter. There was time were she had hoped her old friends would be among the ones found below. But at the same time... which was worse the unknown or the finality of closure?

“Captain!” A petite recruit saluted the approaching guards woman yelling over the thunderous downpour over head. The winds battered their sides carrying the frigid rain soaking Avaline’s exposed leggings. Avaline jerked her head in greeting not stopping her descent into Darktown, heavy boots sinking deep into the softing dirt stairs. The recruit followed behind squinting in the low light at the report clutched in her leather gloved hands. “Corpse retrieval is moving faster than we thought, doesn’t seem to be as many this season.” The guard smiled as if it was good news.

Perhaps it was. Maybe after all these years she was becoming cynical.

Avaline doubted it though.

 Corruption, rampant gang violence, slave trade and bodies. If Avaline didn’t know better she would say that was Kirkwall’s main export. For it to change? Even minutely? This ment one of two things. They had a new residential blood mage or people were getting better at disposing the bodies. Either way it wasn’t a good thing.

“Contact First Enchanter Orsino, see if anymore mages have fled.” The Captain ordered stopping under a makeshift canopy pulling back her sopping hood to met the other woman’s eyes.

“I-yes ma’am I’ll see to it.” She tucked the report into her breast pocket. “Sir Donnic and his squadrint are down below, they seem to have found a fresh one.” The red head raised an eyebrow. Would the wonders never cease? Who even had energy to kill in this weather? Righting herself Avaline saluted and headed to the lowest bowls of the city.

The paths were impossible to navigate down here, waters rising steadily. Blessedly the citizens had placed ramshackle bridges down these corridors, buoyant against the waters. Rising and falling with the lite currents. The window of time to find bodies in these sectors were closing fast.

Avaline hurried down the rickety wood planks grateful to be out of the downpour trying to ignore the claustrophobia setting in. “Mark off anymore of that that you find. Cedric, make sure to write down every detail you see. I want nothing overlooked.” Donnic’s steady lit reached her though the maze of tunnels before the man did.

Her husband stood turned away from her, broad shoulders and back blocking most of the scene before her as he gave the marching orders. His squad bustled around him faces drawn. She knew those faces well. This one was messy. One of the younger guards retched into the putrid waters below gripping white knuckled to the planks. Bracing herself she placed a hand on Donnic’s shoulder making him jump turning to see the newcomer. “ _Sweet Andreste_.” Avaline breathed in horror getting a clear view.

The recruit above must not have seen the body. If they had they wouldn’t have been so blasé about it. This wasn’t a dump, this was a slaughter. The scene couldn’t have been there more than a day. Blood still wet on the over saturated dirt.

They were caught trying to flee up the still usable staircase. Back to them splayed out like a rag doll, tossed and forgotten. Whoever did this didn’t even try hiding it. Was it a warning? Marking territory? Or were they caught before they could clean up the scene? Avaline had seen some things in her day- all thanks to Hawke. But this sheer level of brutality...this was new.

“We-” Donnic coughed pulling her attention from the corpse. “We still haven’t been able to find the head.”

Avaline nodded hopping the small edge from wood planks to hard packed dirt. “We probably never will.” She spoke truthfully. Talking heads, that's trophy behavior. Like it was a damn game to someone. Grabbing a lantern from Cedric, a elderly but sharp eyed guard she knelt to inspect the body closer. There had been real anger in this act. The back nearly unrecognizable fabric and skin alike shredded, bone visible and chipped. Spine severed, fractures arcing like webs along the ribs. She sniffed the air and nagging feeling growing on her back. The webbing fractures, and burnt smell in the air.

“Magic.”

“Beg pardon Captain?” Cedric turned from his coal rubbings of deep gouges on the nearby wall.

“These wound patterns on the bone, and look here the flesh is shinged. This was magic.” Avaline pointed as Donnic and Cedric gathered round.

“Impossible, this damage was done with a blade.” Cedric murmured rubbing the stubble on his jowl.

“Unless it was enchanted.” Donnic retorted rising to point at the near faint guard and the other trying to help them looking just as afflicted. “You two head up to the Hightown markets, see if any of the arms dealers have sold any enchanted weapons in the past few months.”

 The two nodded slowly making their way out leaning heavily on each other for support. Donnic turned back watching his fiery wife observe the scene. He looked back at the body too stomach turning sour. The body had been eviscerated. Never had he seen such savagery. Perhaps a demon? The blight couldn’t possibly be a option... Maker don’t let it be an option.

“Look at these wounds though.” Cedric chimed in. “What blacksmith could make a blade _this_ sharp. Those marks on the wall are from the same strike that hit our victims back, look at the trajectory. No one would wield a sword large enough to hit this much area in one swing. To cut through solid stone.”

“Rage demons could.” Avaline muttered under her breath ignoring the gasp of panic from her two companions. She made a mental note of the fabric disintegrating under her gloved fingers were of high quality, silk or satin. Pushing it away she looked at a new array of wounds. The bruising on the uncut skin sent shivers down her spine. It was too familiar. “Donnic help me turn them.”  With some difficulty the two turned the body on the slim stair case.

Donnic gagged getting a better look at the severed neck. “Ava-Captain what are we looking for?” She ignored him pulling a small dirk from her boot sheath cutting the rest of the tunic from the body. Donnic watched her face turn white, eyes wide in disbelief. He looked back at the body in confusion. While the back looked like it had been done by an enchanted weapon, the front was definitely magic.

Primal magic- purple and yellowing bruises blossomed like spring flora around the thin skin of the kidneys. The chest and neck were a light with them to. The marks were small and isolated, likely from close range. The metal of the buttons not cut away were fused, mass of copper to the burnt skin of the chest.  

“No-” Avaline rose voice cracking. “No this isn’t-this _can’t_ be right.” She backed away shaking her head. Without a word to the two befuddled men she turned heel and ran.

 

 

 

> _Avaline watched in interest leaning on the stone wall of Hawke’s garden wall. The wild mage spun on her heel landing a solid hit with her elbow against the wood of her training dummy, sparks flying into the wood splintering from the impact. Sweat glistened on the back of her friends dark skin. She could practically see the coils of lighting hovering just above the surface of her flesh, dancing along the currents of muscle along her back. It was mesmerizing to watch. Avaline had seen-participated in close quarter hand to hand before. But she doubted she could go against Vivicca._
> 
> _Even without magic she was a formidable opponent, stance low and wide keeping her balance even. Fisted rasied to cover her face and vital areas she struck with viper like speed again. Avaline felt the surge of magic from there. The poor dummy never stood a chance._
> 
> _The solid oak of the head exploded splintering in all directs, shards falling useless to the sandy floor of her training ring. Looks like Leandra had more wood of the fireplace. Vivicca turned wiping sweat from her brow and smiled._
> 
> _“I thought mages use staffs to channel magic.” Avaline started smiling back._
> 
> _“True enough.” Hawke grunted dragging a new dummy to the center of the ring checking her knuckle wrappings. “But I trained my whole life to hide it. Why do you think I don’t carry a staff?”_
> 
> _“And here I thought you just liked hitting things.”_
> 
> _Hawke laughed throwing her head back in mirth, teeth flashing bright white and predatory. “You’re not wrong...it’s rather therapeutic.”_
> 
> _“Did your sister fight like you?”_
> 
> _Hawke went silent for a moment staring at the dummy before landing a hard kick to the side. It shifted in the sand wobbling precariously. “Do you remember her fighting like me? No...Bethany was a puritan through and through. I was the forever difficult one, the one that_ **_had_ ** _to do things my way.” Vivicca rotated again leg raised high over her head currents of magic buzzing once again came crashing down on the wooden shoulder of her training partner cleaving into the wood. Burning it as her heel passed though. “But to be perfectly honest.” Hawke chuckled piercing eyes landing on Avaline as she took the base out from under the mass of wood. It fell defeated like the others from that mornings warm up. “Magic bores me.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Oh._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Everyone knows what magic can do, what_ **_mages_ ** _can do. When you live on the run you have to be...spontaneous, improvisational. No one suspects a mage to do close quarters combat.” Hawke continued grabbing her towel wiping herself down and approaching the guardswoman. Avaline could smell the faint traces of lyrium and storm on her. Power locked tight beneath skin and bone. Avaline nodded tossing Hawke’s water skin to her settling back into her relaxed position. Or tried to. Her shoulders were a little to tight underneath her armor. Jaw clenched a little too tight to be comfortable._
> 
> _As much as she loved Hawke, she scared the living daylights out of her sometimes._
> 
> _“That so?” She raised a brow._
> 
> _Hawke nodded sitting with a content sigh on the bench next to her arms draped over the sides legs spread wide basking in the post training burn of her muscles. Avaline couldn’t help but marvel at the relaxed show of force before her. To carry herself with such certainty and pride, as if Templars and her apostate status meant nothing to her. “Circle mages are kept unfit and weak for a reason. Once their mana runs low you can come in for the kill.” Hawke cracked an eye open blue glowing as she reminisced. “When I was young I would watch the guards and Templars train hand to hand. It fascinated me. A person’s body is a living weapon. I wanted to be like them…magic was a little hiccup.”_
> 
> _“A little hiccup?” Avaline chuckled. “That’s a way of thinking about it.”_
> 
> _Vivicca shrugged nonchalantly. “To me it was. With my father’s help I learned to incorporate it into my lessons. When the twins got older and he passed it helped me keep my family safe.”_
> 
> _Avaline noted the sour look on her face. “What of your mother? You couldn’t have been that old.”_
> 
> _“I was old enough.” Her voice losing its lofty air becoming cold and sharp. “Mother-I did what was necessary to keep my family from imploding.”_
> 
> _“You did well.”_
> 
> _Hawke snorted agitatedly. “Not well enough.”_
> 
> _Avaline placed a warm hand on her shoulder eyes portraying all the sympathy and comfort she could “It wasn’t your fault”._
> 
> _Hawke looked away with a sigh. “I know. How could I protect everyone at the same time? Doesn’t mean I can’t feel guilty.”_
> 
> _Avaline hummed low in understanding, knowing the feeling all to well herself. “What’s it like,” she asked after a long mutual pause in conversation. “Training like you do. It can’t be easy or I’d assume more mages would do it.”_
> 
> _“I doubt others had the opportunity to like me. It’s hard. It can be painful if I’m not careful.”_
> 
> _“Then why do it?”_
> 
> _Hawke rose stretching her arms out enjoying the popping of her joints. “Doesn’t it not hurt when you train? Why do_ **_you_ ** _do it? Shits and giggles?” She quipped taking her position back in front of  anouther tittering dummy. “I do it to better myself. To show them, I am worth more then the title of_ **_mage_ ** _.” Hawke answered the question for her friend curving her finger in a come hither motion. Avaline approached perplexed. “Come on don’t be shy! I wanna show you some moves since you’re so curious about it.” The red head nodded standing behind Hawke to get a good view. “This is my basic take down technique, good allround.” Hawke jabbed the heel of her palm into the side of the dummy over the kidneys wood sizzling. “Hurts like hell easily distracts a person. She performed a few more hits to the arms and upper chest. Hits slow and rhythmic, the soft thuds of flesh striking hardwood lulling Avaline into a trance. Hawkes natural static arua tickling her skin playfully with light barely there touches. She moved so easily, like she wasn’t even thinking about her movements, muscle memory taking over. The recruits could benefit greatly from this..._
> 
> _“But the best way…” Hawke said breaking the trance movements speeding up, hands blurring. Her magic charging up for one more strike. Avaline could feel her hair lifting goosebumps building under her clothes. She lunged forward both palms landing hard on the chest on either side of the heart a joint pulse cracking the air sharp ricocheting in the air._
> 
>  

Drawing shaky breaths Avaline finally stopped leaning on the pubs entrance oblivious to the passersby curious expressions or the bone chilling cold of the water getting through the cracks of her armor. She was imagining things surely. There was no way, so many unknown variables. But the bruising pattern, the sizzle of electricity in the air. It all added up but made no sense.

She need a second-and third- void _all_ of the opinions.

“Coming to drink on the job?” Varric joked not looking up from the manuscript on his desk, knowing the unmistakable heavy footsteps of the guardswoman. Silence answered him water dripping onto his plush rug. He frowned eyeing her sodden appearance. “Half drowned doesn’t look good on you.”

“I’m losing my mind.” Was the only thing she could stutter out coming around his desk to grab his wrist dragging him unceremoniously from his chair to the stairs.

“Hold on!” Varric barked pulling at her shackle like grip. “Let me at least get a cloak!” But it was too late. He choked indignantly on the water suddenly assaulting his face nearly running to keep up with the rampaging duffalo of a woman dragging him along, boots skitting and catching on mud. Finally catching her stride he tuned into the words tumbling from her mouth.

A body, fresh and messy. Patterns of bruises too familiar, needed another opinion. _Hawke_.

It had something to do with Hawke.

“Maker Avaline! I can’t understand you!” He shouted heart clenching at the mere thought.

She stopped only when they were at the planks leading to the body she mentioned. “I need your opinion, you knew Hawke better than I. She brought you damn near everywhere. You remember her fighting style right?”

Varric scoffed rubbing his stubble ridden jaw. Of course he did, who could forget it. The only time he ever saw her fight like a normal mage was facing the Arishok. She did it for the benefit of the nobles forced to watch, and that damn near cost her her life. “Yea...only one mage that likes to punch people I know.”

Avaline nodded gripping his shoulders pushing him to the desired location. “Argh, damn it all Avaline _warn_ a man first.” He flinched away from the scene. Donnic and Cedric had long since left no doubt to finish the paperwork on the area and roping it off.

“Look at it.” She ordered.

He grumbled walking forward. “Well- it’s a body.” He whistled low. “Somebody _really_ didn’t like this guy.” Varric noted the marks, the familiarity Avaline spoke of clear in his eyes. But it wasn't possible. He looked around at the deep gouges in the wall, sand, and body in one long arc. “Ava. I’m not seeing what you are-” He lied not wanted to feed into her psychosis. Hawke wasn’t here, this was a random brutal kill. “But even if it was-which it’s not-even she couldn’t cause this kind of damage.”  Avaline sighed dejected. Of course, it had been a foolish notice. Defeated she slumped onto the marred wall forearm cushioning her forehead. Letting a deep gust of air out through her nostrils in frustration. She opened her eyes ready to give up and call in the Templar forces. This was more than the guards were qualified for, especially with it looking like magic was involved.

A glimmer deep in the groves of the blasted apart stone caught her eyes as she moves. Red and pulsing in the overhead light. A jewel? A piece of the murder weapon? Intrigued she pulled her dirk out once more embedding it deep into the stone, chipping it away till she could pry her fingers into the grooves.

The shard was longer than she imagined, it stretched the length of her middle finger to the center of her palm. She could feel the hit of it though her think gloves. This was no jewel nor could it be apart of a weapon. At least none she had ever seen. Perhaps Cedric’s idea of enchanted weapons wasn’t that far off…”

“What you find now?” The dwarf asked coming up to her side. She looked down opening her palm.

The rogue’s swore fear pulling his lips into a tight grimace. He backed away eyes not leaving the shard. “Avaline, for all things holy and good drop that accused thing.”

“I’m not dropping _evidence_.” She snarled startled pulling her bandana off to wrap the object up before dropping it into the pocket of her cloak. “Unless you know what it is.”

Varric laughed bitterly pulling a hand down his weary face. Maker did he know...“That-that should be miles underground, never to see the light of day. Remember what I told you about the Thaig?”

Avaline throat clicked as she swallowed dryly, the revelation dawning on her.

What was it doing here?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and critiques welcome!


	10. Chapter 10

Her office was in chaos. Bodies circling each other like wild dogs. Enraged voices battling for dominance, bouncing off her stone walls. Avaline groaned fingers pressing punishingly into her temples in hopes to dull the growing migraine.

“That body is an affront to the Maker!  _ You _ are too lenient with them-those bloody abominations under your slacking eyes!”

“ ** _I_** am too lenient! No mage is missing! This has nothing to do with my circle-”

‘Bullshit! We all felt it hanging. A demon. Blood mage…”

“So we are in agreement that you are the ones slacking in your duties!”

“How  **dare** you! Do not think I won’t call for the Rite-” 

Avaline rose anger over flowing riding over the tension mouth open to shout at her rabid guests. To even insinuate a Rite this early into a investigation. Her voice rose adding to the cacophony, all to busy going for each others throats to notice the new comer center.

“Meredith, Cullen  _ enough _ . There is no need for such threats.” A calm but authoritative voice called for order. The two templars reeling back, their leashes yanked. 

“Grand Cleric-” Meredith started refusing to heel so easily. “He is harboring a deranged-”

“Slander! You have no proof!” Orsino shouted true anger threatening to seep out.

“Enough,enough!” Elthina commanded stomping a soft heeled boot to the floor. She shut the door behind her entering the room proper. Staring down the four in front of her. “Stand down the three of you. We cannot jump to conclusions so hastily.” She turned to Avaline brow raised expectantly taking a seat by the desk to observe the room. “Captain would you please start again? I believe the children will behave this time. 

Avaline fought hard to hide her smirk sitting back down in her chair as they gathered around. “We-the guard- started our seasonal ‘cleaning’ today when a few of my men informed me of a body.”

“Is that so unusual?” The Cleric asked leaning back at the non-issue. Even those in the chantry knew of about the unsavory business of this time.

“Bodies? No-but this one was fresh. Couldn’t have been more than a day. And of course the way it was found.” Avaline sighed spreading out all of the notes and rubbings Cedric had collected including the scraps of cloth and the red shard. She had it boxed up in a large thick oak box her bandanna still tightly wrapped around it. It terrified her. Varric had warned her profusely about keeping it near her.  _ It did something to him-he was always a selfish asshole. But never enough to kill his own kin. When we found him, screaming about voices and songs...just-just look after yourself.  _

Avaline shivered, if she focused hard enough she swore she heard muffled whispers emanating from the box. She shook her head trying to focus, she was just imagining things after all. “We have yet to find the head so identifying the victim a hundred percent is not likely. I have men checking to see if anyone has been reported missing in Hightown. But it is unlikely, we would have heard something by now. So I think it's safe to assume this man was a foreigner.” 

“ _ The head? _ ” Elthina drew back sharply looking back at Meredith. 

“You need no more details Grand Cleric.” Orsino murmured.

The elderly woman grimaced looking at her threaded fingers folded on her lap. “Was it magic?” 

“Of course it was,” Commander Cullen scoffed all but rolling his eyes. “What else could do such carnage?”

Orsino jerked his head up as though the words physically punched him. “How dare you!” He hissed turing his gaze pleading to the Grand Cleric.

“Was it magic First Enchanter?” She asked. The elf crumpled under the unwavering gaze.

“There was magic yes-but also so much more, things I have never seen.  _ Any _ of us have seen might I add.” His eyes darted to the two templars daring them to disagree. Cullen nodded reluctantly. Meredith wasn’t paying attention instead her gaze was latched to the box sitting by the Guard Captain’s elbow. “It was not one of mine-none of them would be capable-none are missing.”

“There are still a score of apostates in the city...I’ve heard of one in Darktown.” Cullen started picking up a piece of parchment. 

“No-” Avaline interjected cutting the blond off. “I’ve looked into that lead. That apostate seems to have left the city.” She lied mind reeling. Perhaps Anders or Merrill might notice something she overlooked. “If I may your worship, I need more time to look over the reports.” The guard rose going to open the door for the Cleric and her reluctant entourage.

Meredith snorted towering over to her. “Preposterous. This is Templar business now.” 

“We are not sure what this is Knight Captain.” Avaline augured meeting her gaze undeterred.

“Magic was used!”

Elthine sighed dramatically gripping the knights arm all but dragging her to the door. “Guard Captain keep the Knights and the First Enchanter in the know. The chantry is stretched thin as it is with the Viscount’s seat gathering dust. If you believe the guards can front this burden I will not object.”

“Of course,” Avaline bowed. “Their aid will be- _ invaluable.  _ But for now more cursory work needs done at the moment.” 

“The box stays with the Templars.” Meredith snapped turning her gaze to it. “It is an unknown object with magic. It needs to be secure.” Avaline paused unsettled by the dogged attention she had for the thing. But it made sense, and if it was as dangerous as Varric warned who better? Avaline shrugged thrusting the box into the other captain’s awaiting hands.  Meredith smiled victoriously an unnerving gleam in her cold eyes.. They left without another word Orsino nodded in thanks before shutting the door behind them.

As soon as the lock clicked Avaline sunk onto the couch. She had bought sometime, at least enough to warn Anders and Merrill to seek shelter before the purge Meredith would start unbeknownst to the Grand Cleric. Avaline signed lounging over the cushions staring at the lights above her. 

As much as she hated to admit it, the blonde bitch had a point. This was far beyond what Avaline and her men could handle. They didn’t have the wealth of knowledge the Templars had at their disposal, and she had a better chance of stealing the Maker’s throne then getting Meredith to let her use it. Going to the mages would be pointless too. They were still on lock down from last month. So anything Orsino  _ could _ give would have to be approved by the Knight Commander herself. She didn’t have time to waste sitting around. The clock was ticking for her and the circle. Grabbing her cloak she set out to seek guidance from mages she actually knew.

“You found  _ that up here _ !” Anders voice rose over the rippling waters below. He stood astonished turning in slow circles to take it the full picture. The magic, while not as palpable as it once was still lingered. It's tangy acidity making him feel sick.  Merrill crouched by the dried blood where the body was found. The corpse having long been removed from the scene. Magic pooled on her palm directed at the largest spot on the dirt. Her eyes narrowed in concentration. 

“Yes,” Avaline confirmed with a nod. “Embedded in the walls there.” 

Anders frowned dipping his fingers into the marks whistling. “What do you think Varric?” 

“I think I need a drink.” Varric sighed leaning against a loose dirt mound looking up at the ceiling. This was all too reminiscent of the Thaig for his liking. While blessedly none of that shit was sprouting from the walls it all didn't sit well with him. Could someone had planted it up here? Maybe it was benign, and maybe he was the Viscount. This shit was bad news, more than he believed this city could handle. “Feels like we are always on the verge of a crisis huh?” He groaned popping his neck looking at the agitated guardswoman.

“You have no idea. Merrill you got anything of note?” Avaline walking to the kneeling elf. Merrill rose cutting off the magic flowing from her.

“Not really,” She leaned on her staff soft lit echoing off the walls. “He was very drunk though.” 

“Not really surprising in these parts.” Varric breathed heavily coming to pat Merrill’s back. 

“No it’s not.” Avaline rubbed her brow wearily. “And without a head I can’t even go to the pubs and describe the the victim to barkeeps.” 

“I’m sorry we weren’t more help.” Anders chimed in looking with disgust at the dark stains on the stone. “We’ll keep our ears open though.” The other two agreed heartily collecting their various things trying to brighten Avaline’s strained posture. 

They parted ways shortly after Varric promising the two mages drinks and a warm meal while she headed back to her office to look over what little clues she had. The stone halls of the keep were empty of the usual Noblemen.The few guards patrolling nodding to her respectfully as she passed. The soft snores from those off duty guards in the barracks were a comfort as she sat staring blankly at her reports. Her thumb tracing little over the torn remains of the fine robes they pulled from the body.  Finally after what felt like half a the evening she rose admitting defeat for the night. She debated rather to take her work home with her. Donnic hated it when she did, but this was a high profile case. He wouldn’t be too mad, hopefully. Quickly she gathered her things and headed home. 

The rain mercifully had stopped for the time being as she walked home. The clouds over head rumble in warning, it would pick back up soon. Her pace quickened not wishing to be stuck in the downpour  _ again _ .

“Rather bleak night for a stroll.” 

“Fenris.” Avaline greeted mildly trying to push her heart back down from her throat without him noticing. She had been to caught up in her thoughts to notice her steps had been shadowed. “I’m heading home.”

“That is unusual… everything going that well?” He matched his pace to hers long legs keeping up effortlessly. He didn’t look at her, iridescent eyes forward scanning the dark road before them. 

Avaline snorted gesturing at her overstuffed satchel knowing how good his peripheral vision was. “The exact opposite. Someone has decided to use the chaos of the season to kill and did a piss poor job hiding it.”

“I see.”

“But I’m sure you’ve heard all about it Varric. No doubt writing my incompetence into a bloody book.” She muttered more to herself then her walking companion. 

“I doubt it. I just got back.” Fenris stated finally turning to look at her. 

“Oh.” Avaline halted looking at his worn appearance. A shabby cloak covering his lithe form, travel bag strapped to his lower back. His unearthly large bastard sword harnessed securely to his back. “How long have you been gone?” How had she not noticed?

Fenris flashed her a weary smirk. “About two months.” 

“Maker! Fenris I didn’t mean… I should have noticed your absences.” She flushed cheeks matching her hair. He waved it off continuing his walk letting her catch up to him.

“I take no offense. I have been- truant of late.” His taloned hand stroking idly at the torn fabric of his opposite wrist, heat passing through his hauntingly blank expression.

They continued is silence stopping when they had reached her small homestead. She groaned the awkwardness of the situation finally getting to her. “May I ask where you went of to?” 

Fenris shrugged flicking some mud off his feet. “I have been hunting.”

“Fenris.” Her voice low in warning.

He met her eyes unashamed. “Danarius is still out there. He thinks he has gained the upper hand by- when he.” The words catching in his throat. She didn’t press, instead she waited patiently for him to collect himself. “I will cut down anyone connected to him till he has no choice but to rear his head. I will prove he hasn’t broken me. It’s the least I could do for her.” Fenris trailed off looking up the street.

Avaline nodded taking a good look at him under the light of her door. He looked healthy enough. Donnic had worried about that after the first few months, when he had stopped coming over for cards. His clothes and armor a little looser than last time she saw him. But life on the road, especially as a fugitive was hard. She made a mental note to keep on eye on his eating habits though. He needed a bath and a perhaps a haircut more than anything. Silver scruff hung limply brushing his neck in the passing breeze. “Have you been ‘hunting’ in the city limits?” Her tone suddenly icy. The evidence wasn’t a hundred percent match on his m.o. But he was a more probable bet then her first assumption. 

“Does it look like I have?” He scoffed raising a brow. She leveled him with glare. “ _ Kaffas _ .” She damn near growled walking toward him hand going for her sword. “Avaline,” Fenris glowed in warning stepping back. “I swear to you whatever has happened was not me. I quite literally got back from port.” 

She stopped thinking this out critically. He had no reason to lie, he damn well might be one of the most honest people she knew. Unless he was an exceptional actor the timelines didn’t add up either. No matter how desperate she was this was a complete overreaction. Fenris watched her critically gauging if he need to defend himself. When her stance relaxed and her hand went back to gripping her bag he breathed in relief. “I’m sorry, that was rather hasty of me.” 

He shrugged it off eyeing the bag with interest. “Might I be of assistance? If you had cause to think it was me then this must be a ugly affair.”

Avaline shook her head wishing he had been here earlier and perhaps he could of. “I’m afraid the waters have completely taken the area by now, and the body was burned at noon today.”   

“Ah. Unfortunate.” The elf nodded curtly turning to take the steps into Hightown. Avaline watched passively her tired mind trudging along at a snail's pace. 

“Wait!” Avaline barked mind finally clicking in place at the slim chance in front of her. “You were a slave!” 

“How very astute.” Fenris turned back bristling arms crossing as he shot her a frigid glare. She winced at her tactlessness. How had she not thought of this before?

She had been to houses of status before. Fine silks and jewelry ran like rivers there. Symbols of status never changed from region to region. He no doubt had seen more than his fair share of finery from around Thedas during his time under Denarius.

Quickly before she dug herself a deeper hole she rummaged in the bag for the large blood stained scrap of fabric the buttons both fused and unmarred wrapped neatly inside. “Can you, maybe can you identify this? I figured you might have seen this style before. It’s not from the Marches or any Ferelden style I’ve seen.”

He reached for the evidence gingerly holding a button to the light, dark brows knitting. “This is a merchant class mold. Tevinter in origins.” His teeth grit in distaste as he pointed to the small insignia pressed into the button. “ They were of a higher cast too. This is solid silver. The lesser merchants have silver coated bronze or simple clay buttons. The fabric is of high quality as I’m sure you knew. But the insignia can be traced to a specific house name.” He handed the fabric back to her scowling. “This was found in Kirkwall?”

“In Darktown. The victim looks to have ran there from something.” She nodded putting back into her back.

“Where?”

“Absolutely not Fenris.” She bite out a step ahead of him.

He snarled back. “There is no reason for a merchant of such standing to even step foot out of Tevinter. Why would they be here?”

Avaline rubbed her chin going to sit to on her front step. “Kirkwall is a port city, a major port city at that. They were running perhaps they were running farther than this but got cut off?”

Fenris nodded. “It’s a start for you.”

“Thank you. This has been more than helpful.” Avaline rose reinvigorated to start up the hunt again tomorrow morning.  

Fenris frowned but took the thanks in silence biding her a restful night before heading for his own residence. His plans for the next day also laid out before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break school has been kicking my ass :/.
> 
> Comments and critiques always welcomed!


	11. Chapter 11

She had been doing so well. 

In Tevinter she had been nothing more the a shadow. Lovingly called ‘the red death’ by her master at his private dinners. Her training had taken the better part of a year but she had raised her masters standings exponentially in that short amount of time. 

But now Master would be furious. She had failed to hide the body like a fool. She deserved to be punished. Hadriana had been talking with him for the better part of a day though a small crystal figuring out how to fix this utter blunder. Hawke shudder curled into herself. Splintering wood digging into the soles of her feet. Shackled to the grimy floor head resting on her knees she tried to dooze.She needed to rest while she could.   
But she couldn't. 

Not while  _ it _ was there.    
Hawke glanced quickly to the corner hoping the red glow was just a fever dream from the rains outside or lack of sleep. It waved a hazy outline of a hand at her, stark white teeth contrasting the glow of its small body. It sat humming a disjointed melody legs sprawled out in front of it’s gangly form, feet hitting each other in rhythm. 

This was all it’s fault.  _ It  _ had distracted her from finishing the last target off cleanly, giving him a chance to flee. She had let her guard down. Thinking she could just ignore it. Before she would only see it out the corner of her eye. A brief shimmer of ruby like candle light. An echoing giggle in the air.

At first Hawke thought the master had allowed a child to roam the halls at their leisure. A foolish notion, children weren’t allowed out of the kitchens. She brought it up once. He didn't like it. Her back still burned thinking about it. It had disappeared for a while after that. But its voice didn't. 

Every command, every order, every kill her Denarius demanded of her her neck would itch as it jeered. As it laughed.

_ A perfect little pet now? What would Carver think?  _

_ How the mighty plummet...Guess he’s finally out of your shadow.  _

_ My look at that! Such blade work would put even that pirate to shame. _

It toyed with her, making up ludicrous stories, lying though it’s teeth.

“Leave me demon,” She hissed dried lips cracking under the strain. Voice barely reaching a whisper from disuse. No one cared to hear her speak, that's not what she was born for. “I need to rest.”

It-that strange red glowing being giggled, high pitched and child like. Two toned voice grating yet oddly pleasant.  _ Sorry, not an option for me so… _ it trailed off the dark skin under the red gloam pulling up in a shrug flashing her a sadistic grin before humming louder. 

This song, this lullaby sounded so familiar… 

_ Big gruff hands hosting her up cradling her gently. She was so small buried in his beard. “I don't wanna go to bed I wanna stay up with you!” Coarse hair tickling her cheek as he rained kisses down upon her  pulling her into his loving embrace. Chest rumbling a lullaby as he tucked her in. Sleep pulled her under, snuggled into the sheets that smelled of wildflowers. So warm, so safe. _

Hawke gasps at the intrusion tattoos sparking in the sudden wave of emotions. She cries out clutching at her hair, lyrium in her flesh arching like waves of lighting off her skin. Pain rooting her in place. 

This wasn’t the first time that thing had tried to fill her with these false memories. Every so often it would flash something at her. Loud pubs. Sweet perfumes, shimmering gold. A motherly voice scolding her and two others. Hoarse chuckles and off color jokes. Hot fur. Green eyes.

Then it took shape.

A small girl was it’s favorite. Eyes bright and clear. Hair defying gravity, curls splayed down her back. Skin dark under the haze of red covering its body, radiant and healthy.  A trick. Mind games to weaken her resolve. As a child everyone looked innocent, even monsters.

It said it was her. Just to add insult to injury.

The red child snarled in frustration. 

_ Demon pffft. They wish.  _ It rolled its eyes. Its mouth hadn’t opened but the words were as clear as day.  _ Those bastards take up space if you ask me.  _

“What?” Hawke looked breaking her rule of not directly looking or talking to the thing.

_ You heard me. Moaning and groaning wishing for things long gone. Don’t you get enough of that with that winkly sack of shit you call ‘Master’? _

“Do not speak of him like that!” Anger flaring deep within her chest. 

_ What are you gonna do? Tell on me? _ It scoffed rising to stand in front of her tiny hands resting on its hips. 

Hawke paled jerking to look at the door. It knew she couldn’t. Not after last time.

_ That’s what I thought. Lashes still healing from last time ye? Think telling him  _ _ again _ _ you’re losing it is gonna help you?  _ It chuckled tendrils of red rising from the gaps in its smile as it smirked down at her. The hurtful glare cooling as it looked down at her trembling form.

It touched a hand to her shoulder consolingly, making Hawke shudder. So warm. 

When was the last time someone had toucher her not out of cruelty?

Hawke jerked away steeling her heart. She whimpered curling up at the door fingers rubbing at gouges she had clawed into them over her imprisonment. 

The haze sighed sitting down again looking bored with the melodrama  _ I'm stuck to you like it or not. And trust me I don't like it. _

“Who are you?” Hawke stopped scratching at the wooden door. Her guards were deliberately ignoring her, no doubt still up stairs having their fill of the larder. 

_ Who are you?  _

Serious? It said they were connected but it didn’t know who she was? “Master calls me Hawke.”

_ Hawke... Weakling like you doesn't deserve to named after a bird of prey. You get a name of that weight when you’ve earned it.  _ It scoffed, the vile coming from it almost comically juxtaposed to the innocents of its round cheeks and chubby frame.

Shame and anger twisted Hawke’s gut. She wasn’t nothing. Master saw to that. He made her something, something great and powerful. Yet it says otherwise? “You don’t have the right to speak to me like that!” She snared teeth bared rage making her blood boil.

_ Oh Ho! The right?  _ It laughed hand covering its mouth silently letting it’s shoulders shake in mirth.  _ Aren’t you just somebody's little bitch?  _  The lyrium on her skin burned begging to elongate. To strike, to kill. 

What was stopping her? It was so close, and small. It wouldn't be able to dodge…

Hawke struck suddenly blurring; almost surpassing the speed of her lyriums ability to part from her body. The child didn’t budge eyes widening in shock infinitesimally before letting out a sharp bark of laughter as the blade shattered into nothing. Hawkes fist painfully connected to the stone behind the creatures head. She heard more then felt the bones crack under the pressure. Lighting branching out cracking the solid stone. 

“PUPPET!” Hadriana’s voice thundered down the hall hearing the explosion from down below. Hawke collapsed before the child gripping her destroyed hand teeth grinding holding back the howl of pain threatening to bubble up. 

It smirked eyes gleaming.  _ Stupid. But I respect the sentiment.  _ Eyes looking over the sunken woman shoulders listing to the approaching footsteps.  _ A word of advice for next time.  _ It spoke body becoming translucent as it faded to Maker knows where.  _ Attacking the thing made you is rather foolish. _

*************

Days passed after that slowly. Hawke was mendened and bound tight to her cot, actions reported. Hadriana had not been kind when she had entered the room looking at the damage feeling the rage and magic Hawke had released was stifling. It terrified her. Fenris had been a mixed bag too, especially towards the end; but no mage. Denarius had assured her the this one would not stray. That she should trust his judgement.

She trusted her blood magic more.

Hadriana kept Hawke weak after that. Little food, maybe a hour or so of sleep a night. Magical suppression during the day. With Denarius playing god at home he had given her the reigns on his pet. At least until the last of the loose ends were taken care of. 

Hadriana sat at the ornate table of the safe houses dining room tea growing cold next to her. She scowled at the missives her subordinates had ‘traded’ for from a contact on the city guard. It never ceased to amaze her what a little gold could get you. Kirkwall was a literal playground to her. So many tiny Nobles and lessers wishing to raise their statues or fill their coffers. 

The guards were clueless of what went down in those tunnels. Though the reports about the Knight-Commander were a little troubling. They should be safe up in Hightown if a Rite was called. Void, the chaos might weed out the remaining runaways from out of hiding. She picked up the map of Kirkwall and the port schedules.

The mage guessed they were both forturnate and not for landing when they did. The storm had halted all outgoing ships. They were trapped, but so were the little cockroaches Denarius wanted dealt with. Corinthian- pathetic bastard that he was was the latest victim of the old mages ire. The one his ‘red death’ had blundered so badly. 

The orders were was simple. Kill and dump the bodies. Hadriana had to watch each kill to make sure Hawke did as she was told. It had started alright. Fool had actually shown up on request thinking he was forgiven for stiffing Denarius on the trade of the relic. Once drunk Hadriana had set her little plan in motion. Denarius never said how or when the sods had to die. Just that Hawke was the one that had to do it. She did it with all the idiots. A game of cat and mouse. The way she saw it it was a win win. Hawke refined her hunting skills and the loser was dispatched.  But the last game didn’t go as expected. Corinthian had pleaded, had ran, they gave chase. The usual. 

But then they had cornered him. Hawke never hesitated not after the first kill. Her arm raised, the unearthly heat of the storm she controlled mixing with the volatile lyrium encasing her.  She was always so focused on the kill. So when her head snapped to the side looking aghast down one of the many winding passageways it had given the mage quite a scare. 

No one should be down here, the storms made sure of it. With both the women distracted it had given that disgusting weasel a chance to flee, and in a maze like Kirkwall it was easy to lose him. If he had escaped it wouldn’t have only been Hawke’s neck on the line.

They spent days down there searching. The waters rising faster than Hadriana had anticipated. Hawke was conditioned for starvation and harsh conditioning. She and Corinthian were not. It had damaged her pride when they had finally cornered the rat almost making his escape to dry land, his sodden appearance and ragged breathing no better than her own.

“This time don’t hesitate! Destroy him!”

Hawke hadn’t. Perhaps in an attempt to diminish the punishment she would receive for letting him go once she stuck him down harder than need be. There would no way of covering up the damage to the walls and stairs in time. The waters were getting to high to insure the body was hidden properly. Hadriana had panicked. Retrieving the trophy she dragged the compliant slave behind her. Reporting to Denarius had been a nightmare. She blamed the whole thing on Hawke of course. No one would believe that little bitch, not that anyone would ask.

“What gave her pause?” Denarius asked voice low with displeasure. 

His apprentice hesitated. To this day she wasn’t exactly sure. Hadriana had seen demons, the undead and a myriad of other unholy creations under Denarius’s tutelage. But how can one describe something that _simply_ _wasn’t there._  Hawke had definitely seen something. Her red rimmed eyes widened in horror at the unseen, even Corinthian turned in confusion to the seemingly empty hallway. 

That's when it hit. The sharp acidity in the air making her eyes burn and pressure slowly building in her head, like a water skin near bursting. The feeling of barely leashed magic, so raw and volatile. Hawke’s weapon faltered at the merchants throat before melting back into her. As if she had no control over it.  

Corinthian saw an opening then in that pregnant pause bashing the stunned Hawke over the head with a loose stone. She roared in indignation striking his soft belly with a bolt of lighting before he could dislodge himself and fled. The smell of the unknown and burnt flesh making the younger women gag swaying disorientedly. 

_ Stop! Be silent and leave me!  _ Hawke’s words echoed down the empty corridor, her prey forgotten. It took her awhile to collect herself. Finally shaking herself hard and lashing out at thin air.  It took a moment for them both to recover before Hawke looked to the smaller woman, wiping blood from the cut above her brow awaiting her orders-or punishment. Hadriana clenched her trembling hands into fist to steady herself, barking out a rapid stream of curses and orders.

“I cannot say Sir _ ” _ . Hadriana shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps she is seeing things? _ ” _ There was a pause, the crystal glowing softly as her mentor thought. 

“Watch her carefully. Take a few days to rest and let this storm settle.” 

“Of course Sir...and of the elf?”

Another long pause greeted her. She couldn’t deny her curiosity as to why he hadn’t ordered his new plaything to recapture his stolen property and wipe the map of all his and Hawke’s ‘friends’. She figured it was the whole reason for coming to this disgusting city. But yet they were only there to find and kill those who Denarius believed had out served their usefulness. Then it would be back to Tevinter. 

“Tis not time yet. I want to be there to watch as his so called freedom is ripped asunder.”

Hadriana cracked a grin as the crystalline light died ending the call. He always did a pension for dramatism. 

*******

Hawke lay in a trance gazing up hazally at the small window above her. Flicks of dust disappearing as they passed the dwindling rays of light. Her blood rolled sluggishly in her veins, body immobile from the magic Hadriana used. 

This was an odd punishment. 

Isolation wasn’t new. A lashing then solitude was a staple during her time with her. But it was like no one wanted to be around her anymore. She smiled, muscles straining at the odd motion. She could get use to this…

_ This is only a calm before a storm you know. _

Hawke moaned inwardly wishing she could move to roll onto her side and ignore the pest. It sat legs crossed on the rickety stool next to the cot idly pulling at one of her dark curls. “I was hoping to never see you again.” 

_ What!? And give up our little chats? Perish the thought. _

“Life would be better without you creature.” She rasped drawing her eyes back to the dance of dust above her, mind for once at ease. Empty of thoughts, pain, emotions. It was like a living death. 

_ These thoughts are unbecoming of you.  _

Hawke snorted refusing to look at the growing frown on the beings face. “As if you cared creature.” 

_ Well one of us has to. _ It leaned in to her line of vision. Red tipped fingers brushing a stray hair from her cheek. 

Hawke chortled meeting the hazy glare of eyes too similar to hers for comfort. Eyes that held all the things she once was. Hope, determination, the heat of a beating heart. Her teeth creaked under the strain, thoughts brimming on the tip of her tongue. It watched head cocking as she struggled. “Cease this...these falsehoods monster.” 

It huffed falling back on to its perch. Almost had her that time... Looks like the magisters hold was stronger.  _ Calling me names got boring a lot faster than I thought. Void knows how long I’m stuck with you anyway. _

“What should I call you then? If we a truly stuck together. Do you have a name?” Hawke seemed to have struck a chord with the child beast. It hissed shoulders stiffening, red vapors streaming from its nostrils like an enraged tea kettle.

_ I don’t-I  _ _ can’t _ _ remember.  _ It looked so small, so confused in that moment. The brevodo it flaunted disappearing with a simple question.

“Somehow I don’t doubt that.”  Hawke reflected quietly both uncomfortable with the silence “How ‘bout Red?”

_ Oh how creative.  _ Hawke could feel the girls eyes roll.

“Take it or leave it.” She yawned succumbing to the pull of the magic binding her. “I can’t think straight right now.” 

The hum of red around the creature spiked tingling her skin. It was electric, pleased?  _ Fine. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. I'm stupid and thought I posted this before my work schedule started back up :). Sorry for the near month break in between!  
> Comments and critics always welcomed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes at the end! Sorry it's rather short this time.

It was easy to get lost in a crowd. The bustle of patrons and shop keeps pushing and shoving to get through the crowded bazaar. Children crying for lost parents. Merchants hawking their wares to anyone within shouting distance. Customers haggling and arguing over each other. The putrid smell of animal carcesses and freshly dried fabric assaulting him for all angles. The impending downpour only increasing the disorder. In such chaos an elf was invisible. Fenris snorted at irony of it all. To be unwanted yet expected to serve; ignored but ever vigilant. To bend but never break. The duality of life in Kirkwall.

Fenris stood near a large tent pole pulling his cloak closer. At a glance he looked like a servant waiting for his master. With the clouds still dark over head he was not out of place in his heavy garb. Hunched over he stepped forward into the currents of people around him eyes not leaving his mark as he waded closer. He had followed him all morning waiting for a single mistake in their facade. Anything to verify his hunch. Now he had them.  

They had slipped, lulled into a false sense of security in the crowd. From common to Tevene. A fraction of a second; a cartwheel dangerously close to devesting him of a foot.  

No one noticed. The vint certainly didn't bat an eye at the elf now a hair's breadth from him looming just over his shoulder. Fenris was nothing to crowd, nothing to him. Irrelevant to the proceedings around them. A body in the way. A useless slave in Hightown.

_ I'm glad you're here. _

Fenris bit his lip letting the metallic taste and pain distract from the way his chest tightened at the words he so painstakingly tried to suppress. Her strong voice bubbling to the surface of his subconscious refusing to be quelled so easily. 

_ I'm happy you came. _

He wished he had come sooner. Embraced her longer, said something  _ anything  _ to relive her of her doubt. Instead he left her crying into soiled sheets. Alone. She never left him alone. Why couldn't he do the same?

_ Did I do something wrong? _

Her tall statue so hunched, so small, so unsure of him. His downward spiral of excuses stuck to his tongue. She didn't need to hear them. They weren’t important.

_ You are important.  _

Why couldn't she just be angry with him? Banish him from her house, tell the others to turn away. Make him into a social pariah he deserved to be. No, no matter how smart it would have been that was not Hawke.

_ I'll wait. I'll wait until your ready. _

She had done nothing differently, opening her home to him as usual. Begging him to not stop studying, even if it wasn't with her. She made sure he knew she was still there even at a distance. Still loved him. Even if he couldn't. He wished he could have been stronger. But knew he was now, he had to be.

His nails bit harshly into his palms finally pulling him back. Now wasn't the time to torment himself. His self loathing could wait until he had words with his fleeing target. 

Or until he could hide the body.

His mark was either the worlds most oblivious man or overly cocky of his abilities to blend in. No amount of baggy ill fitting clothes could hide the arrogance radiating off of him. Nose high he looked down on everyone he met. His portly frame forcing the current of patrons to split around him. He haggled to a ridiculous degree belittling any small merchant that refuse to lower their prices too far. He was particularly savage to the elven and lesser human merchants. Berating anyone who refused to buckle beneath his demands. 

Fenris watched sizing him up just waiting for a chance to get him alone. It took longer than expected for the man to wind down finally heading down a less congested street to a small inn right on the edge of Lowtown. Quaint and quiet; a lovely place really. Not at all surprising he’d pick it. Fenris had hoped for something less predictable.

Fenris followed behind at a distance slipping in with a small gathering of lesser merchants, all too busy talking amongst themselves to notice the extra party member before sliding into the inn with them. As soon as he was in he merged in with a gaggle of servants to the entrance. 

The elves busy in the kitchen barely looked up at the entrance of the newcomers. The small space was sweltering, several roasts rotating on a open flame creating a oppressive haze in the air making it hard to see anything but shadowy forms. Quietly he grabbed a plate left abandoned by the hearth. He piled it with dry meats and fruits watching how the other elves arranged their plates. 

“Oh good,” a hunched elf approached him old eyes having trouble focusing on the face before her. “Taking up to the rooms?”

“Yes, ma’am. But I do not remember which. My apologies.” Fenris murmured slipping back into a role he knew all too well. The elf's smile faltered looking him up and down with more scrutiny. He dressed plainly for this reason. Loose tunic covering most of his tattoos, collar stiff on his neck with his hair tucked securely away with a scarf, not unlike the others in the crowded room. His normal tight leggings replaced with baggy britches and worn shoes. He looked scruffy and on the edge of homeless. The spitting image of the elves of Kirkwall. 

“Fresh hire are you boy? Describe the guest.” She tittered to a small ledger on a table by the door.

Fenris nodded describing the man vaguely looking over her hunched shoulder. Most of the words made sense, some were still lost to him. But it was enough to know that there were fifteen guests in all and only three vacant rooms. He scanned quickly making assumptions on which of the single rooms his target was residing in.

“Here, room eight second floor.” She turned brow raised. “Can you manage to find the right room then?”

“I’ll manage yes ma’am.” Fenris nodded taking his tray again and heading out the room. He found the room easily, farthest corner and dimly lit. Foolish. 

Fenris knocked waiting impatiently, he could feel his lyrium rolling with his anger. He entered at the gruff bark bowing low. “Leave it by the bed and get out.” The merchant ordered tersely not paying the elf any mind eyes fixed on the roaring blaze of the hearth.

Fenris placed the plate of food on the rooms small table sharp eyes never leaving the portly man's back standing by the fireplace blind to the looming threat behind him.

“A long way from home aren't you?” Fenris asked in their shared native tongue. 

The merchant squeaked eyes wide, dark wizened skin taunt in panic. He paled visibly no doubt recognizing the threat and elf in front of him. “You-what of Denarius? ” He floundered trying and failing to recover fear locking his limbs.

“Yes.” Fenris scowled locking the door with a resounding ‘click’. “What of Denarius?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long break with this I've been having problems trying to write this and stay happy with what I have produced as I haven't been really happy with some of my chapters. But I'm planning on trucking forward while possibly editing some previous chapters along the way.


	15. Not a chapter just announcement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update on my plans for this!

Hey! Sorry to put this into a chapter I'll delete this soon! But just an announcement!  
10\. 28. 2018- Hello! As you can see I'm not dead (yay). I've been away with work and just life but I really want to get back into writing this. So I decided to go though my original chapters and edit, not only to refresh myself with what I wrote but also bc I feel like I have more to add before I can do this idea justice and continue . Please bear with me as I re-upload my chapters! As always I like talking about ideas and questions, it helps me stay on track with my ideas and might even give me new ones to add.  
Comments and critics are welcome too I edit these myself by hand so it makes me slow and I still miss things sometimes :/

You will know the chapter has been updated bc I will put the date I re-uploaded it and give the chapter an actual title!

  
Again thanks for checking this fic out!


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